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GEOKGE WHITEFIELD. 



LONDON : PEINTED BY 
SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-SIBEEI SQUAKB 
AND PARLIAMENT STREET 



THE 



LIFE AND TRAVELS 

OF 

GEORGE WHITEFIELD, M.A. 



BY 

I 

JAMES PATEESON GLEDSTONE. 



LONDON: 

LONGMANS, GEE EN, AND CO. 

1871. 



OF THE 

SELF-SACRIFICING AND CATHOLIC EVANGELIST 

WHO, A HUNDRED YEARS AGO, 

FINISHED IN A STRANGE LAND HIS TRAVELS 
FOR THE GOSPEL'S SAKE, 

AND 

PREACHED THE LAST OF THOSE SERMONS 

WHICH, 

TOGETHER WITH THE TRUE "WORDS OF MANY OF HIS BRETHREN, 

REANIMATED THE DYING RELIGION OF THE WHOLE BRITISH PEOPLE, 

THIS BOOK 
IS 

titbttzntlp SDcbicatcb* 



a 



PREFACE. 



Sir James Stephen has placed Whitepield at the head of 
what he calls ' the Evangelical Succession.' The position 
is correctly assigned ; Whitefield is the Peter of the 
Evangelicals, so far as they are a distinct portion of the 
Church of England. It was he who, in modern days, 
first preached, with zeal and unexampled success, those 
doctrines which they regard with religious veneration ; it 
was he who gave them much of the phraseology to which 
they still cling with steadfast loyalty. But it cannot be 
allowed that they, and only they, have the right to claim 
an inheritance in him. The wealth of a good heart is for 
the enriching of the world ; and the triumphs of genius 
are a study for scholars of every school. I have there- 
fore placed Whitefield in the loftier position of a brother 
of all who, in every place and under any denomination, 
call upon the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. I have 
striven to put the man, rather than his creed, upon the 
pages of this book, — or rather to put the man first, and 
his creed second. I have endeavoured to find out, and 
lay bare, the real fountain of his never-failing and ex- 
ultant joy ; of his fiery but gentle zeal ; of his universal 



viii 



PREFACE. 



charity, which, however, was associated with some forbid- 
ding and chilling beliefs. Whitefield's love to God and 
love to man — one love — constitute the explanation of his 
personal character and of his life's labours. It is true 
that, for a time at least, he held the dark and terrible 
doctrine of reprobation ; and some may think that he 
must therefore have been a bigot, and a harsh one too ; 
but the truth is, that he was altogether without bigotry. 
He believed in the infinite love of God more firmly than 
in anything else ; and this belief tinctured the whole of* 
his religion. 

I have not looked at him as a theologian, for such he 
cannot be called, but as a Christian ; and in the following 
pages there will not be found any narrative of severe 
mental struggles with hard questions concerning God and 
6 His ways to men.' They attempt to reveal a great 
heart, stirred with the purest emotion, ever desiring abso- 
lute perfection in goodness and unintermittingly seeking 
it, resolved to leave nothing undone by which others 
might become partakers with itself of the great salvation, 
and impatient of all impediments, whether ecclesiastical 
or social, that threatened the consummation of its hopes. 

Where Whitefield was in conflict with others, I have 
tried to do justice to both sides ; and though some things 
may seem to bear hardly upon the clergy of his day, I 
believe that in no instance have I wronged them to screen 
him. His excellences were too great to need adornment, 
and his faults too obvious to admit of misapprehension. 



PREFACE. 



IX 



It may be felt, in the course of the narrative, that too 
much time has been spent in recounting his preaching 
labours, in telling how large were his congregations, how 
great the difficulties which he overcame, and how far he 
travelled ; but I could not see how otherwise to give 
the same conception of the man and his work which is 
gained by perusing his journals and letters page by page. 
The frequent mention of thousands of hearers, though 
apparently savouring of the ostentatious, was necessary, 
as a simple statement of the truth. 

The last twenty years of Whitefield's life have received 
but slight notice, as compared with that which has been 
given to his earlier years ; and the reason is, that they 
were almost entirely without new features of interest. 
They saw no fresh work attempted ; they brought to 
light no fresh qualities of mind or heart ; they simply 
witnessed the steady growth of enterprises previously 
begun, and of personal qualities previously displayed. 



J. P. GLEDSTONE. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 
1714-1735. 

PAGE 

lis ' Parentage and Childhood — At Oxford — Among the 

Methodists — His Conversion 1 



CHAPTER II. 
1736. 

His Ordination as Deacon — Essays in Preaching . . . 29 



CHAPTER III. 
March, 1737— March; 1738. 

Appointed Chaplain to the Georgian Colony— First Popu- 
larity — First Voyage * 48 

CHAPTER IV. 
1738. 

Six Months in Georgia — Second Voyage . . . .84 



CHAPTER V. 
December and januarj^ 1738-39. 

Fetter Lane Meetings— Ordained Priest .... 98 



xii 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VI. 
February to April, 1739. 

PAGE 

Expelled the Churches — Open-air Preaching . . . 106 

CHAPTER VII. 
May to August, 1739. 

In Moorfields; on Commons; at Fairs and Races . .134 

CHAPTER VIII. 
August, 1739, to March, 1741. 

Third Voyage — Itinerating in America — Fourth Voyage — 

Breach with Wesley 169 

CHAPTER IX. 
March, 17 41, to August, 1744. 

Loss of Popularity — First Visit to Scotland — Conduct of 

the Dissenters 248 

CHAPTER X. 
August, 1744, to July, 1748. 

* Fifth Voyage — Adventures and Controversies — Wanderings 

in America — Invalided in Bermudas — Sixth Voyage . 339 

CHAPTER XL 
July, 1748-1752. 

Appointed Chaplain to the Countess of Huntingdon — A 

Slave Owner ......... 377 

CHAPTER XII. 
1753-1770. 

Chapel Building — Attacks by Enemies — Infirmities — His 

Death — The Results of his Work 141 



Index • . . . . 523 



THE 

LIFE AND TKAVELS 
GEORGE WHITEFIELD, M,A. 

CHAPTER I. 
1714-1735. 

HIS PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD — AT OXFORD — AMONG THE 
METHODISTS — HIS CONVERSION. 

To give the genealogy of George Whiteneld, so far as it 
can be traced, will not be a tedious task. There is not a 
cloud of ancestors to be acknowledged and honoured 
before attention can be directed to him whose labours 
and sacrifices may serve to kindle the emulation of the 
most saintly, and to provoke admiration wherever they 
are known. 

The great-grandfather of George Whiteneld was the 
Eev. Samuel Whitefield, of whom nothing more can be 
said than that he was a clergyman of the Church of 
England, and held successively the living of North 
Ledyard in Wiltshire and that of Eockhampton in 
Gloucestershire. Perhaps he was rich ; for one of his 
sons, Andrew, is described as ' a private gentleman.' A 
family of fourteen children, with which the private 
gentleman was blessed, must have divided his estate into 
comparatively small portions ; and that which fell to the 
eldest, a son named Thomas, established him as a wine 

B 



2 



LIFE AND TKAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



merchant in Bristol. Thomas Whitefield married Miss 
Elizabeth Edwards of Bristol, and afterwards removed to 
Gloucester, to keep the Bell Inn, apparently because 
he had failed in his first venture. Nothing more is 
known of the wine merchant and innkeeper than of the 
Wiltshire rector ; but we can scarcely avoid the sup- 
position that his failure in trade was the result of in- 
aptitude, and that he was not without some of the gifts 
so freely lavished on his son George — youngest of seven, 
a daughter and six sons — who was born in the Bell Inn, 
on the 16th of December, 1714. Unwilling to believe 
that some children, like the favourites of fairies, are capri- 
ciously dowered with their splendid gifts, we look for the 
original of the son in the father or the mother, or in some 
combination of their respective qualities ; and as the wife 
of the innkeeper seems to have had but little mental or 
moral likeness to her famous son, we are tempted to 
ascribe the higher worth to her husband. Yet the mother 
of Whitefield, if without the clear wisdom and the daunt- 
less piety of the mother of the Wesleys, had a tender, 
faithful heart, commendable prudence, a great desire for 
the welfare of her children, and much willingness to deny 
herself for their sakes. George always held her in reve- 
rent affection. With the fondness of a mother for her 
last-born, she used to tell him that, even when he was an 
infant, she always expected more comfort from him than 
from any other of her children. 

One Christmas more came, and the father was still 
spared to watch over his children ; but, sometime about 
the coming of the next, he died ; and his child was left 
without one remembrance of him. 

Only one event of Whitefield's early childhood is on 
record. When he was about four years of age he had 
the measles, and through the ignorance or neglect of 
his nurse, the disease left one of his eyes — dark blue they 
were, and lively — with a squint, which, however, is said 



EARLY SINS AND FAULTS. 



3 



not to have marred the extreme sweetness of his counte- 
nance, nor diminished the charm of his glance. 

Circumstances were not very favourable to the forma- 
tion of a noble character in the boy. He says that he 
8 soon gave pregnant proofs of an impudent temper.' He 
fell into some of the worst of juvenile sins ; occasionally 
he transgressed in a more marked way. His child- 
hood was stained with lying, evil speaking, and petty 
thefts, which he perpetrated on his mother by taking 
money out of her pocket before she was up ; 1 this he 
thought, at the time, was no theft at all. He also says 
that he spent much money 4 in plays, and in the common 
entertainments of the age/ Playing at cards and reading 
romances were his ' heart's delight.' Sabbath-breaking 
was a common sin, and he generally behaved irreverently 
at public worship, when he was present. As might be 
expected, he was fond of playing wild, roguish tricks, 
such as running into the Dissenting meeting-house, and 
shouting the name of the worthy old minister — 8 Old 
Cole ! old Cole I old Cole ! ' Being asked, one day, by 
one of Cole's congregation, of what business he meant to 
be, he replied, 4 A minister ; but I would take care never 
to tell stories in the pulpit like the old Cole.' A wild, 
merry, unkempt lad he was ; with no restraint upon him, 
excepting a wise regulation of his mother, by which he 
was not allowed to take any part in the business, although 
he did sometimes sell odd quantities over the counter, and 
wrongfully keep the money ; overflowing with animal 
spirits, which often led him into mischief, in the execution 
of which his power of concealment so signally failed him 
that he was always detected. 4 It would be endless,' he 
says, 4 to recount the sins and offences of my younger 

1 Augustine goes through a catalogue of similar faults in his 'Confessions.' 
Tutor, masters, and parents were deceived with innumerable falsehoods, so 
that he might get off to shows and plays ; he also committed thefts from 
his parents' cellar and table, either to please a greedy appetite, or to give to 
other boys. 

b 2 



4. 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



days.' But why he should, in later years, have classed 
his 4 roguish tricks ' with graver faults, is not clear. They 
may really have been worse than simple fun, or his con- 
science may have become morbidly sensitive and in- 
tolerant, even of play, probably the latter. But there 
were other forces working in his impetuous, fiery spirit. 
Good thoughts struggled with sinful ones ; conscience 
failed not to rebuke him for his faults, and smite him 
with heavy blows. A grotesque caricature of a saint 
sprung out of the contention. He would not be bad, 
neither would he be thoroughly good. He compromised ; 
he tried to blend light and darkness ; he feared God, and 
loved sin. Some of the money stolen from his mother 
was devoted to higher ends than buying tarts and fruit — 
it was given to the poor ! His thefts were not confined 
to raids upon his mother's pocket and till, but extended 
to property outside the Bell Inn ; but then he stole 
books — afterwards restored fourfold — and they were 
books of devotion ! The Bible was not unknown to him, 
any more than a romance ; but it was as much the book 
of his curses as the book of his prayers. His quick 
temper — he was hasty-tempered to the last — sought ex- 
pression for itself in the imprecatory psalms, as well as in 
vulgar cursing. The burden of the 118th Psalm was 
familiar to him ; and once, when he had been teased by 
some persons who took a constant pleasure in exaspera- 
ting him, he immediately retired to his room, and, kneel- 
ing down, with many tears, prayed the whole Psalm 
over, finding relief to his feelings in the terrible refrain 
of the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth verses — 4 But in the 
name of the Lord will I destroy them.' Church might 
be a place for irreverence, and the service a thing to be 
mocked at ; yet he was always fond of being a clergyman, 
and frequently imitated the minister's reading prayers. 

All the man can be traced in the boy — delight in the 
emotional and exciting, a ready power of appropriating 



at scnooL. 



5 



and applying to himself and to his enemies the words of 
Scripture, fondness for using his elocution, and aptness of 
imitation. And a strange contrast, as well as resemblance, 
is there between the man and the boy, when they are 
placed side by side in St. Mary de Crypt, Gloucester. In 
the church where the infant was baptized and the boy of 
ten mocked, the deacon of twenty-one preached his first 
sermon to a crowded audience. 

When he was ten years old his mother married a 
second time, her second husband being Mr. Longclen, an 
ironmonger, of Gloucester. Whitefield says, that it was 
' an unhappy match as for temporals, but God overruled it 
for good. It set my brethren upon thinking more than 
otherwise they would have done, and made an uncommon 
impression upon my own heart in particular.' 

At the age of twelve he was placed at the school of 
St. Mary de Crypt, 6 the last grammar school,' he says, ' I 
ever went to ; ' from which we may suppose that he had 
tried not a few schools before. The last school changed 
him not a whit in his earliest characteristics. Plays still 
fascinated him ; and, if he did not read them in school, 
when he was there — and it is very probable that he did — 
he spent whole days away from school studying them, 
and preparing to act them. His enthusiasm for acting 
spread to his school-fellows ; and the master, either be- 
cause he sympathised with his scholars' tastes, or thought 
it useless to resist them, not only composed plays for the 
school, but had a theatrical entertainment for the corpo- 
ration on their annual visitation, young Whitefield' being, 
on one occasion, dressed in girls' clothes, to act before 
them. The annual oration before these visitors was also 
commonly entrusted to the boy from 6 the Bell ; ' and his 
good memory and fine elocution won him much notice. 
A livery school must St. Mary de Crypt have been while 
this vivacious scholar sat on its benches — the master 
writing plays, the boys learning them, and the worthy 
city aldermen seeing them acted. 



6 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



Whitefield has given an opinion upon his education : 
he says, 'I cannot but observe, with much concern of 
mind, how this training up of youth has a natural ten- 
dency to debauch the mind, to raise ill passions, and to 
stuff the memory with things as contrary to the gospel of 
Jesus Christ as light to darkness, heaven to hell. How- 
ever, though the first thing I had to repent of was my 
education in general, yet I must always acknowledge that 
my particular thanks are due to my master for the great 
pains he took with me and his other scholars in teaching 
us to write and speak correctly.' 

The future saint and preacher was still indicated amid 
all this mirth. Part of the money received for his good 
acting and reciting was spent upon ' Ken's Manual for 
Winchester Scholars,' a book which had affected him 
much when his brother used to read it in his mother's 
troubles, and which, for some time after he bought it, was 
4 of great use to his soul.' 

Before he was fifteen he longed to be free even from 
the mild discipline of his last grammar school ; and by 
pressing his mother with the sage argument that, since she 
could not send him to the university, and as more learning 
might spoil him for a tradesman, it would be best for him 
to halt at his present attainments, he got his own way on 
all points but one — he must go to school every day for a 
writing lesson. Adverse circumstances soon compelled 
the discontinuance of the solitary lesson, and the lad of 
fifteen had to take — on his part, apparently with some 
little regret, but with commendable industry — to the dress 
and work of a common drawer in his mother's inn. She 
who had hitherto been so jealous over her son's asso- 
ciations must have been hard pressed with poverty before 
consenting to such a step. Nor was the boy unaffected 
by the family misfortunes. His honour prompted him to 
be of use, and to shun the greater contempt of being a 
burden, by enduring the lesser shame of wearing a blue 



WHITEFIELD AT THE BELL INN. 



7 



apron and washing mops and cleaning rooms. His reli- 
gious tendencies were strengthened by frequent reading 
of the Bible at the close of his day's work ; indeed, he 
would sit up to read it. Sometimes the care of the whole 
house came upon him ; but still he found time to compose 
two or three sermons, one of which he dedicated to his 
elder brother. The first lessons of experience were being 
wrought into the heart of a quick learner, whose way- 
wardness was receiving its first stern rebuke. The work 
of the inn made him long for school again, but his 
sense of filial duty never suffered him to be idle, even in 
a calling which he disliked. The sight of the boys going 
to school often cut him to the heart ; and to a companion, 
who frequently came entreating him to go to Oxford, his 
general answer was, 6 1 wish I could.' 

A year later his mother was obliged to leave the inn ; 
then a married brother, 4 who had been bred up to the 
business,' took it ; and to him George became an assistant. 
The brothers agreed well enough ; not so the brother-in- 
law and sister-in-law ; for three weeks together George 
would not speak a word to her. He was wretched, and 
much to blame ; and at length, thinking that his absence 
would make all things easy, and being advised so by his 
mother and brother, he went to Bristol, to see one of his 
brothers. This, he thinks, was God's way of ' forcing him 
out of the public business, and calling him from drawing 
wine for drunkards, to draw water out of the wells of 
salvation for the refreshment of His spiritual Israel.' 

At Bristol he experienced the first of those rapturous 
feelings with which, a few years later, his soul became 
absolutely penetrated and possessed, then refined and 
gloriously illuminated, and in which it was finally sa- 
crificed to God his Saviour. From the first it was no 
weakness of his to feel with half his heart : 4 with all thy 
soul and mind and strength ' was to him an easy condition 
of religious feeling and activity. He now had much 



8 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WH1TEF1ELD. 

' sensible devotion,' and was filled with ' unspeakable 
raptures,' sometimes ' carried out beyond himself.' He 
longed after the sacrament ; he pondered the 4 Imitation of 
Christ,' and delighted in it ; he was all impatience to hear 
the church bell calling him to worship ; his former employ- 
ment dissatisfied him, and he often wrote to his mother, 
telling her that he never would return to it. Yet, with all 
his fervour, his heart knew not 6 the peace of God which 
passeth all understanding ; ' something secretly whispered, 
fc this will not last ; ' and it is not from this time that he 
dates his conversion. He admits that God was in the 
tumult of devotion, but not as he afterwards knew Him 
— the God of peace and rest and love. 

Two short months sufficed to end the spiritual fever. 
Probably it would have left him, had he continued at 
Bristol, but its decline he ascribes to his return home. 
Once among his old associations, his delight in church- 
going and in prayer ceased ; the only remnant of good he 
retained was his resolution not to live in the inn ; and no 
doubt his firmness on that point was mainly due to his 
antipathy to his sister-in-law, and to his love for his 
mother, who, with true motherly affection, welcomed him 
to the best she could give him — her own fare and a bed 
upon the floor. His old love for play-reading revived 
again ; his vanity made him more careful to 6 adorn his 
body than deck and beautify his soul ;' his former school- 
fellows, whom he had done his share in misleading, now 
did theirs in misleading him. 

6 But God,' he says, speaking in harmony with those 
Calvinistic views which he afterwards adopted, 'whose 
gifts and callings are without repentance, would let no- 
thing pluck me out of His hands, though I was continually 
doing despite to the Spirit of grace. He saw me with pity 
and compassion, when lying in my blood. He passed by 
me; He said unto me, "Live," and even gave me some 
foresight of His providing for me. One morning, as I was 



A TUEN IN LIFE. 



9 



reading a play to my sister, said I, " Sister, God intends 
something for me which we know not of. As I have 
been diligent in business, I believe many would gladly 
have me for an apprentice ; but every way seems to be 
barred up, so that I think God will provide for me some 
way or other that we cannot apprehend." ' 

The deterioration of character which must have re- 
sulted from his being without employment, and without 
any purposes for the future, was happily averted by an 
accidental visit paid to his mother by one of his former 
school-fellows, now a servitor at Pembroke College, Ox- 
ford. When it was incidentally mentioned in the conver- 
sation, that the visitor had paid his last quarter's expenses, 
and received a penny, Mrs. Whitefield eagerly caught at 
the news, and cried out, 4 This will do for my son ; ' and 
turning to George she said, 6 Will you go to Oxford, 
George ? ' He replied, ' With all my heart.' Application 
was at once made for the help of the kind friends who 
had aided their visitor ; and mother and son were soon 
rejoiced to know that interest would be used to procure 
George a servitor's place in Pembroke College. 

His learning, such as it was, had not been kept bright 
during his service in the inn, his visit to Bristol, and his 
idle time under his mother's roof; and so the genial 
schoolmaster had to be applied to again, to take back his 
former pupil. He gladly consented ; and, this time, the 
pupil, animated by the hope of gaining an honourable 
object, worked diligently and successfully. At first his 
morality and religion were not improved equally with his 
learning. A knot of debauched and atheistical youths, 
their atheism probably founded on their immorality, 
which did not like to retain the knowledge of God, suc- 
ceeded in inveigling him. His thoughts about religion 
grew more and more like theirs ; he reasoned that if God 
had given him passions, it must be to gratify them. He 
affected to look rakish ; and when he went to public ser- 



10 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



vice, it was only to make sport and walk about. Twice 
or thrice he got drunk. 

Then a reforming impulse came upon him ; and upon 
information given by him to his master of the principles 
and practices of his companions, their proceedings were 
stopped. Efforts after a better life, relapses into sin, me- 
ditations upon serious books, 1 dutiful service done for his 
mother, and, finally, a firm resolution to prepare for 
taking the sacrament on his seventeenth birthdav. marked 
his moral history at school for the first twelvemonths. 

Strange fancies now began to flit through his mind. 
Once he dreamt that he was to see God on Mount Sinai, 
and was afraid to meet Him — a circumstance which im- 
pressed him deeply ; and when he told it to a ' gentle- 
woman,' she said, £ George, this is a call from God.' He 
grew more serious, and his looks — such, he says, was his 
' hypocrisy ' — were more grave than the feelings behind 
them. The gentlewoman's words also helped to increase 
his impressionableness ; and it is not surprising to learn 
that ' one night, as he was going on an errand for his 
mother, an unaccountable but very strong impression was 
made upon his heart, that he should preach quickly.' It 

1 { The Christian's Defence against the Fears of Death,' by Charles Drelin- 
eourt, was the most prominent among these books. Its unrivalled advertise- 
ment and recommendation in ' A Eelation of the Apparition of Mrs. Veal," 
could not fail to attract Whitefield's attention in his present state of mind. 
'Now you must know Mrs. Veal was a maiden gentlewoman of about thirty 
years of age, and for some years last past had been troubled with fits, which 
were perceived coming on her by her going off from her discourse very abruptly 
to some impertinence.' On September 7, 1705, Mrs. Veal died at Dover, and, 
on the following day, attired in a { scowered silk gown, newly made up,' 
she appeared to her old friend Mrs. Bargrave at Canterbury. They spoke 
together for an hour and three quarters, Mrs. Bargrave not knowing that 
the lady in the ' scowered silk ' was a ghost. Their conversation ran much 
on trifles ; but it had also a serious turn, and Mrs. Veal assured her friend 
that 'Drelincourt had the clearest notions of death and of the future state 
of any who had handled that subject.' This judgment, pronounced by one 
so well calculated to understand all things about death, having herself 
passed through it, prepares us to believe that 4 Drelincourt's Book of Death 
is, since this happened, bought up strangely.' 



AT OXFORD. 



11 



is as little surprising that his mother, upon hearing from 
him what had come into his mind, should have turned 
short upon him, crying out — 4 What does the boy mean ? 
Prithee, hold thy tongue.' 

He resumed, though in a much more sober way, the 
religious practices of his Bristol life. A rebuke adminis- 
tered to him by one of his brothers, who had begun to 
regard Iris alternations from saint to sinner and sinner to 
saint as painfully regular, did him much good, by check- 
ing his spiritual pride and by increasing his self-distrust 
and watchfulness. His brother told him plainly — the 
Whitefields were an outspoken family — that he feared 
the new zeal would not last long, not through the temp- 
tations of Oxford. Perhaps his prophecy might have been 
fulfilled had he not spoken it. 

Whitefield went to Oxford in 1732 when he was 
nearly eighteen years old. Some of his friends used their 
influence with the master of Pembroke College ; another 
friend lent him ten pounds upon a bond, to defray the 
expense of entering, while the master admitted him as a 
servitor immediately. Once within the college walls he 
was not the lad to play with his chance of success. His 
humble station had no thorns for his pride. To be a ser- 
vitor was no new thing ; perhaps he felt himself advanced 
by having his fellow-students to wait upon, instead of 
boors and drunkards. Pembroke College was far before 
the Bell Inn, both for reputation and society ; and then, 
was there not before the eye of the young student the 
prospect of an honourable and useful station in life? 
Might he not, at the least, become an ordinary clergyman 
in his church? Might he not pass beyond that, and 
attain to the dignity of a very reverend, or perhaps of a 
right reverend ? There might be present indignity in his 
position, as there certainly was nothing ennobling in it ; 
yet he would not impatiently and with silly haughtiness 
throw away future honour by discarding humble work. 



12 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 



He may have been rather too destitute of that high- 
spiritedness which made Johnson, not many weeks before 
Whitefield's coming to Pembroke, 1 throw away a pair of 
shoes which gentle kindness had placed at his door ; in- 
deed, an equal division of their respective qualities of 
pride and humbleness between the two students might 
have been an advantage to both. A little more of John- 
son's spiritedness might have saved Whitefield from the 
reproach of sycophancy, while not injuring his humility 
and gratefulness of heart ; and a little more of White- 
field's diligence and ready attention to the wants of the 
gentlemen might have rescued Johnson from years of 
hardship and of ignominious drudgery, while not sapping 
his independence. When Whitefield rejoices in his humble 
lot, because it offers many advantages above the position 
in which he was born, and wins for himself general esteem 
by his quickness and readiness to serve, he is greater than 
the suspicious Johnson, who can see nothing but an insult 
in as delicate a kindness as ever was offered to a poor 
scholar ; but when Johnson rebukes the cold neglect, and 
afterwards the officious help of Chesterfield, he is nobler 
than Whitefield, who uses obsequious language to the 
lords and ladies of his congregation, not indeed in preach- 
ing to them, but in his private correspondence with them. 

The young servitor lightened the burden of friends 
who stood as his money-securities, toiled at his classics, 
adhered to his late religious practices at the grammar 
school, and thus laid a good foundation for a manly life. 
Law's 6 Serious Call to a Devout Life,' which had already 
4 overmatched ' Johnson, and made him ' think in earnest 
of religion,' and his treatise on 1 Christian Perfection,' 
were the means of stirring still more profoundly the 
already excited mind of Whitefield. Standing aloof from 
the general body of students, resisting the solicitations of 
many who lay in the same room with him, and who 

1 I am following BoswelFs dates. - _ - 



THE WESLEYS. 



13 



6 would have drawn him into excess of riot,' and prac- 
tising daily devotions with the regularity of a monk, what 
wonder that he was soon thrown amongst the 'Metho- 
dists,' who were beginning their new life, and whom he 
had always defended, even before he came to Oxford, or 
knew them ? If there was spiritual life in the university, 
how could one who had so strangely, though ofttimes so 
inconsistently, followed prayer, meditation, sermon-writ- 
ing, almsgiving, and public worship, fail to feel its touch, 
and answer to its call ? It was inevitable that the servitor, 
who had come to be looked upon as a 6 singular odd 
fellow,' notwithstanding all his merits, should turn 
Methodist ; and accordingly he joined the band of devout 
young men sometime between his nineteenth and twen- 
tieth year, after his 4 soul had longed for above a twelve- 
month to be acquainted with them.' 

The first Methodists were John and Charles Wesley, 
Mr. Morgan, commoner of Christ Church, and Mr. Kirk- 
ham, of Merton College ; but the nickname was fastened 
on the little company while John was in Lincolnshire 
assisting his father, the rector of Epworth. When he 
returned to Oxford, in 1730, he took his brother Charles's 
place at the head of the band, and became for ever after 
the chief figure of Methodism. His age — he was now 
twenty-seven years old, Charles twenty-two, and White- 
field sixteen — his ability, his position, and his piety, fitted 
him to become the guide and stay of his friends ; and 
soon were the effects of his presence seen in an increased 
attendance at the students' devotional meetings, and in 
the manner in which the meetings were conducted. Uni- 
versity wits called him ' The Father of the Holy Club.' 
When Whiten eld joined the Methodists, which was about 
the end of 1734, or early in 1735, they were fifteen in 
number, and included Mr. Benjamin Ingham, of Queen's 
College; Mr. T. Broughton, of Exeter; and Mr. James 
Hervey, of Lincoln College ; and it was in this wise he 



14 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OP GEOEGE WH1TEFIELD. 



joined them. Wesley and his associates were marked 
men. Their austerities, their devoutness, and their chari- 
table labours among the poor, attracted general attention ; 
and on their way to St. Mary's, every week, to receive the 
sacrament, they had to pass through a crowd of ridiculing 
students, congregated to insult them. The sight of this 
shameful insolence did not operate upon one beholder 
at least as a hindrance to godly living ; on the contrary, 
it awakened his sympathy, nerved his courage, and pre- 
pared him to take up his cross. Whitefield often saw the 
persecution endured by the few, and never without wish- 
ing to follow their brave example. An opportunity of 
becoming acquainted with them soon offered itself. A 
poor woman, in one of the workhouses, made an unsuc- 
cessful attempt to commit suicide ; and Whitefield, aware 
of Charles Wesley's readiness for every good work, sent 
a message to him by an apple woman of Pembroke, ask- 
ing him to visit her. The messenger was, for some 
unaccountable reason, charged not to tell Wesley who 
had sent her ; that charge she broke ; and Wesley, who 
had often met Whitefield walking by himself, pondering 
the 6 deep things of God,' and was aware of his pious 
habits, sent him an invitation to come and breakfast with 
him the next morning. Whitefield gladly went ; and that 
morning the two students formed a life-long, honourable 
friendship. Forty years afterwards Charles wrote of their 
meeting with much tenderness and warmth : — 

6 Can I the memorable day forget, 
When first we by divine appointment met ? 
Where undisturbed the thoughtful student roves, 
In search of truth, through academic groves ; 
A modest, pensive youth, who mused alone, 
Industrious the frequented path to shun, 
An Israelite, without disguise or art, 
I saw, I loved, and clasped him to my heart, 
A stranger as my bosom-friend caressed, 
And unawares received an angel-guest.' 



WHITEFIELD AND CHARLES WESLEY. 



15 



Charles Wesley put into the hands of his guest, Professor 
Franck's treatise against the ' Fear of Man ' and the 
'Country Parson's Advice to his Parishioners.' White- 
field then took his departure. 

The most interesting part of the spiritual life of White- 
field begins at this point, up to which there has been an 
uncertain, varying war carried on against sin, coupled 
with many defeated attempts to attain to a severe form 
of external piety. After the period just to be opened to 
our view, he never becomes entangled in doubts con- 
cerning the divine method of saving sinners, and never 
hesitates between rival plans of practical living. He tried 
all the three great plans of being a Christian and of 
serving God which have gained favour with large sections 
of mankind ; and finding satisfaction in the one which he 
ultimately adopted, he felt no temptation ever afterwards 
to leave it. Already, as we have seen, he has had large 
experience of the effects upon conscience and heart of 
the method which theologians call, 6 salvation by works ; ' 
and yet he is neither at peace with God, nor established 
in a godly life. He is more satisfied that he is on the 
right track, and his resolutions to be outwardly holy have 
stood a good trial ; but he is still asking and seeking. 

While in this state of mind, Charles Wesley both 
helped and hindered him — helped him with his books, 
and hindered him by his example, which was that of an 
honest, anxious mind, ignorant of the salvation which 
comes by faith in the Son of God. The great Methodist, 
his ' never-to-be-forgotten friend,' as Whitefield affection- 
ately calls him, brought him within sight of the 4 fulness 
of the blessing of the gospel of Christ,' and then led him 
down a by-path, which brought him to the low levels of 
Quietism, where he nearly perished. Charles Wesley did 
not conduct him thus far, and never intended to set 
him in that direction ; it was ' the blind leading the 
blind.' The pupil, as we shall presently see, was the first 



16 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



to become a safe teacher ; he knew ' the liberty of the sons 
of God,' while the Wesleys were struggling in chains he 
had broken. 

Shortly after the memorable breakfast, Charles lent 
him a book, entitled ' The Life of God in the Soul of 
Man ; ' and no small wonder did it create within him. It 
was a new doctrine to be told, ' that some falsely placed 
religion in going to church, doing hurt to no one, being 
constant in the duties of the closet, and now and then 
reaching out their hands to give alms to their poor 
neighbours.' Bat if the book's negative teaching alarmed 
him, by shaking to the ground the temple he was so 
diligently building, its positive teaching filled him with 
unspeakable joy. When he read that 'true religion is 
an union of the soul with God, or Christ formed within 
us, a ray of divine light instantaneously darted in upon 
his soul, and from that moment, but not till then, did he 
know that he must be a new creature.' 

Then, with characteristic ardour, he wrote to his rela- 
tions about this new birth (afterwards to be the main 
doctrine of his preaching to multitudes of people), think- 
ing that the news of it would be as welcome to them as 
it had been to himself ; but they charitably supposed him 
to be insane. Their letters determined him to forego an 
intended visit to his native town, lest going among them 
they might impede the progress of his soul in grace. 
Charles Wesley now introduced him ' by degrees to the 
rest of the Methodists ; ' and of course the introduction 
led him to adopt the whole of their plan of living. To 
live by rule was the fundamental principle of their theo- 
logy ; as yet they knew nothing of the mighty power of 
joy and peace which come through believing upon the 
name of Jesus. To live according to 'the law of the 
spirit of life in Christ Jesus ' was an unthought-of privi- 
lege in their fixed and lifeless code. Thus Whitefield 
was led astray from the scriptural truth which had poured 



PERSECUTION. 



17 



light into his understanding, and gladness into his heart, 
and once more tried, though this time more inflexibly 
and more thoroughly, his old scheme of salvation by 
works. It seemed as if, like Luther, he must know all 
that he could do, and all that he could not do, before he 
could 6 count all things but loss for the excellency of the 
knowledge of Christ Jesus.' The redemption of time 
became, according to the new teachers, a primary virtue, 
and he hoarded his moments as if they were years. 
Whether he ate, or drank, or whatever he did, he endea- 
voured to do all to the glory of God. The sacrament 
was received every Sunday at Christ Church. Fasting 
was practised on Wednesday and Friday. Sick persons 
and prisoners were visited, and poor people were read 
to. An hour every day Was spent in acts of charity. 

His studies were soon affected by his morbid state of 
mind^ for such a system as he was living under allowed 
its faithful disciple no room for change or diversion. 
Every hour brought round a weary step of the moral 
treadmill which must be taken, or conscience would be 
bruised and wounded ; and Whiten" eld had suffered 
enough from conscience to feel a quivering fear of its 
pains. No books would now please his disordered taste 
but such as ' entered into the heart of religion, and led him 
directly into an experimental knowledge of Jesus Christ 
and Him crucified.' How he came to write these words, 
which are quoted from his journal, it would be hard to 
say. When he wrote them, he must have known that it 
was the lack of the knowledge of Jesus which had made 
him a slave. 

Once fully and openly connected with the 6 Holy Club,' 
he had soon to share in its troubles. 4 Polite students ' 
shot barbed words at him. mean ones withdrew their pay 
from him, and brutal ones threw dirt at him. Friends 
became shy. The master of the college rebuked him, 
and threatened to expel him. Daily contempt was poured 

c 



18 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEF1ELD. 

upon him. His tutor alone forbore to torment him. At 
first he did not accept his reproach calmly ; it shook his 
feeble strength. When he went to St. Mary's, for the 
first time, to receive the sacrament publicly on a week- 
day — sure sign to all the University that he had s com- 
menced Methodist ' — ' Mr. Charles Wesley/ he says, 
4 whom I must always mention with the greatest de- 
ference and respect, walked with me from the church 
even to the college. I confess to my shame I would 
gladly have excused him ; and the next day, going to his 
room, one of our fellows passing by, I was ashamed to 
be seen to knock at his door.' The displeasure of the 
master of his college, and the master's threat to expel 
him if ever he visited the poor again, surprised him, as 
well it might. A shameful state of feeling must have 
prevailed when a master could think of inflicting final 
disgrace upon a student for the sin, not of attending 
Methodist meetings, but of visiting the poor. 4 Over- 
awed,' he says, 4 by the master's authority, I spoke un- 
advisedly with my lips, and said, if it displeased him, I 
would not. My conscience soon pricked me for this sin- 
ful compliance. I immediately repented, and visited the 
poor the first opportunity, and told my companions, if 
ever I was called to a stake for Christ's sake, I would 
serve my tongue as Archbishop Cranmer served his hand, 
viz. make that burn first.' His fear of man gradually 
wore off; and he 4 confessed the Methodists more and 
more publicly every day,' walking openly with them, and 
choosing rather to bear contempt with them than 4 to enjoy 
the applause of almost-Christians for a season.' 

The advantage of his trials was, that they inured him 
to contempt, of which he was destined to get a full share, 
and lessened his self-love. His inward sufferings were 
also of an uncommon kind, Satan seeming to desire to sift 
him like wheat ; and the reason for this, Whitefield thinks, 
was to prevent his future blessings from proving his ruin. 



SPIRITUAL BONDAGE. 



19 



All along he had an earnest desire, a hungering and 
thirsting after the humility of Jesus Christ. Imagining 
that it would be instantaneously infused into his soul, 
he prayed night and day to receive it. 6 But as Gideon,' 
he says, £ taught the men of Succoth with thorns, so God 
— if I am yet in any measure blessed with poverty of 
spirit — taught it me by the exercise of true, strong temp- 
tations.' The strong temptations came in reality from 
his mistaken, though eagerly-accepted, views of religion, 
his incessant self-inspection, his moral police regulations, 
his abstinence from all change in reading, and his daily 
persecutions, the combined influence of which brought 
him into a terrible condition. A horrible fearfulness and 
dread overwhelmed his soul. He felt 6 an unusual weight 
and impression, attended with inward darkness,' lie upon 
his breast ; and the load increased until he was convinced 
that Satan had real possession of him, and that his body, 
like Job's, was given over to the power of the evil one. 
All power of meditating, or even thinking, was taken from 
him. But let him tell his own tale : — ' My memory quite 
failed me. My whole soul was barren and dry, and I 
could fancy myself to be like nothing so much as a man 
locked up in iron armour. Whenever I kneeled down, 
I felt great heavings in my body, and have often prayed 
under the weight of them till the sweat came through 
me. At this time Satan used to terrify me much, and 
threatened to punish me, if I discovered his wiles. It 
being my duty, as servitor, in my turn to knock at the 
gentlemen's rooms by ten at night, to see who were in 
their rooms, I thought the devil would appear to me every 
stair I went up. And he so troubled me when I lay down 
to rest, that, for some weeks, I scarce slept above three 
hours at a time. 

4 God only knows how many nights I have lain upon 
my bed groaning under the weight 1 felt, and bidding 
Satan depart from me in the name of Jesus. Whole days 

c 2 



20 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



and weeks have I spent in lying prostrate on the ground, 
and begging freedom from those proud, hellish thoughts 
that used to crowd in upon and distract my soul. But 
God made Satan drive out Satan. For these thoughts 
and suggestions created such a self-abhorrence within me, 
that I never ceased wrestling with God till He blessed me 
with a victory over them. Self-love, self-will, pride, and 
envy buffeted me in their turns, that I was resolved 
either to die or conquer. I wanted to see sin as it was, 
but feared, at the same time, lest the sight of it should 
terrify me to death. 

c Having nobody to show me a better way, I thought 
to get peace and purity by outward austerities. Accord- 
ingly, by degrees, I began to leave off eating fruits, and 
such like, and gave the money I usually spent in that 
way to the poor. Afterwards I always chose the worst 
sort of food, though my place furnished me with variety. 
I fasted twice a week. My apparel was mean, I thought 
it unbecoming a penitent to have his hair powdered. I 
wore woollen gloves, a patched gown, and dirty shoes, 
and therefore looked upon myself as very humble.' 

He was exhausting what he calls c the legal system ' — - 
salvation by works. He felt pride creeping in, in spite 
of him, behind every thought, word, and action ; and he 
was too sincere not to admit that all his labours must 
prove fruitless while that remained unbroken. Here 
Quietism offered him its aid. Whitefield a Quietist ! 
As easily change a comet into a fixed star. The power 
was not in him to dream sweet dreams of heaven, nor to 
swoon away in the ecstasy of a mediaeval saint, his £ soul 
and spirit divided asunder as by the sword of the Spirit 
of God.' He was quite capable of a fiery rapture ; indeed 
his life, when he got fairly engaged in his mighty labours, 
was nothing else ; but his feelings depended much upon 
active effort. His practical mind could not tolerate the 
spiritual subtleties of the mystical mind, and in the school 



SELF-MORTIFICATION. 



21 



of Kichard of St. Victor he would not have learned the 
alphabet of the spirit-lore. ■ It would have plunged him 
into a horrible pit had he been assured, that within his 
own soul he might find ' a threefold heaven — the imagi- 
national, the rational, and the intellectual.' Eenelon's 
doctrine of disinterested love, though substantially the 
same as that of a theologian whom he learned profoundly 
to revere, Jonathan Edwards, would have driven him dis- 
tracted. The definitions, stages, and depths of Quietism 
were not what attracted him to his new system ; these 
were an esoteric doctrine to him. All that he wanted 
was some ready and satisfactory method of relieving his 
conscience of an intolerable burden, and of attaining to a 
truly religious life ; and reading one day in Castaniza's 
6 Spiritual Combat,' ' that he that is employed in morti- 
fying his will is as well employed as though he were con- 
verting Indians,' he set himself rudely to the task of 
mortifying his will. He began as an Englishman, with a 
rough unsparing hand and an honest heart. He sighed 
for no canonisation ; he coveted no marvellous revelations. 
To mortify his will was all that he had to do ; and how 
else could it be done but by mortification ? So he shut 
himself up in his study for five or six weeks (only attend- 
ing to necessary college business), and fought his cor- 
ruptions by almost incessant prayer. Extravagance was 
added to extravagance. The narrative of our Lord's 
temptation among wild beasts made him think that he 
ought to expose himself to the cold ; and at night, after 
supper, he went into Christ Church Walk, knelt under a 
tree, and continued in silent prayer until the great bell 
rang and called him to his college. Mortification next 
required the discontinuance of a diary which he kept, and 
also abstinence from the use of forms and even of audible 
speech in prayer, and cessation from works of mercy. 
Its inexorable logic next required that he should forsake 
all his friends ; for is it not written that we are ' to leave 



22 



LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



all,' if we would follow Christ ? and accordingly, instead of 
meeting with his beloved brethren on one of their weekly 
fast days, Wednesday, he went into the fields for silent 
prayer. The evening meeting also was neglected ; and 
on Thursday morning he did not make his usual appear- 
ance at Charles Wesley's breakfast- table. This made 
Charles call upon him to see what was the matter, and 
finding that it was morbid anxiety, he counselled White- 
field to seek spiritual direction from his brother John, 
whose skill he thoroughly trusted. 

The spell of Quietism was broken ; it was not potent 
enough to hold such a spirit as Whitefield's long in 
bondage ; and silence was impossible under the interroga- 
tions of a loving, anxious friend. With wonderful humi- 
lity Whitefield sought the aid of John Wesley, who told 
him that he must resume all his external religious exer- 
cises, but not depend upon them, — advice which might 
have driven him mad, not a ray of comfort in it, not a 
drop of the love of God. And still the bewildered in- 
quirer, burdened with his great sorrow, which no man 
could remove, attended diligently upon his teacher ; and 
the teacher, as was natural to him, confidently undertook 
to guide him. As they stand here before our eye, one 
side of each character, unconsciously displayed by that 
luminous sincerity which distinguished equally both these 
remarkable men, comes clearly and boldly into relief. 
The elder, while abounding in some of the divinest gifts 
which can adorn humanity — readiness to forgive, patience, 
justice — is confident, assuming, and gratified in being 
above his fellows ; the younger, while restless with im- 
petuosity, impatient, quick to engage in conflict if not first 
to provoke it, is teachable, reverent, and generous to 
rivals. The thought of rivalry between them is yet un- 
born ; 6 the Father of the Holy Club ' is instructing its 
youngest member. 

Wesley meant to do Whitefield good service, and par- 



WESLEY INSTRUCTING WHITEFIELD. 



23 



tially succeeded when lie urged him to return to 4 exter- 
nals,' as Methodists called acts of devotion and charity. 
Only a few clays after returning to his duty among the 
poor, Whitefield added to the one convert, James 
Hervey, whom he had won, two more, while his own 
soul was tormented and afflicted. The story of their con- 
version well illustrates the reputation of the Methodists 
in Oxford at this time. 6 As I was walking along,' 
Whitefield says, 6 I met with a poor woman, whose hus- 
band was then in Bocardo, or Oxford town gaol, which I 
constantly visited. Seeing her much discomposed, I in- 
quired the cause. She told me, not being able to bear the 
crying of her children, ready to perish with hunger, and 
having nothing to relieve them, she had been to drown 
herself, but was mercifully prevented, and said she was 
coming to my room to inform me of it. I gave her some 
immediate relief, and desired her to meet me at the prison 
with her husband in the afternoon. She came, and there 
God visited them both by His free grace ; she was power- 
fully quickened from above ; and, when I had done read- 
ing, he came to me like the trembling jailor, and, grasp- 
ing my hand, cried out, "I am upon the brink of hell ! " 
From this time forward both of them grew in grace. 
God, by His providence, soon delivered him from his 
confinement. Though notorious offenders against God 
and one another before, yet now they became helpsmeet 
for each other in the great work of their salvation. They 
are both now living, and I trust will be my joy and crown 
of rejoicing in the great clay of our Lord Jesus.' 

Lent soon came, and its fastings and hardships brought 
Whitefield's spiritual conflicts to their fiercest vigour, and 
then to their joyful cessation. The externals of the 
Methodist rule for this season were duly observed. No 
meat was eaten by the brethren except on the Saturday 
and the Sunday ; but Whitefield surpassed them, and often 
abstained on the Saturday ; and on other days, Sunday 



24 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

alone excepted, he lived on sage tea without sugar, and 
coarse bread. In the cold mornings, the biting east wind 
blowing, he walked out, until part of one of his hands 
became quite black. When Passion Week came he could 
scarce creep upstairs for weakness ; and it then seemed 
to be time to send for his tutor, a kind, considerate man, 
who immediately took the common-sense plan of calling 
in a doctor. 

6 Salvation by works ' had nearly killed him ; Quietism 
had nearly driven him mad. Was there not another way, 
which, combining the excellences of the two plans, might 
bring him out of darkness into God's marvellous light ? 
Might he not render his soul into the hands of God as 
into 6 the hands of a faithful Creator,' and still devote 
himself with diligence to c every good word and work ; ' 
thus getting the repose combined with the activity which 
his nature in a special degree needed? Both sides of the 
spiritual life of man are fully recognised in Holy Scrip- 
ture. Expressions of supreme delight in the knowledge 
and fellowship of the Almighty crowd the pages both of 
the Old and JSFew Testament ; and not less numerous are 
the passages which declare the joy and worth of humble 
toil for each other and for the glory of God. Our great 
example, Christ Jesus, had His own hidden, sweet delights 
in communing wiith His father, and His feet were swift 
to do 4 His father's business.' Might not the disciple be 
as his Lord? It is not to be objected here, that the 
disciple had not received the very first gift of God to man, 
at least the first gift which affords man sensible relief, and 
a vivid conception of the divine mercy, pardon ; and 
that it is idle to speak of the after stages of grace before 
the first step in it has been taken. The effect of the book, 
4 The Life of God in the Soul of Man,' must be remem- 
bered, and then it will be seen that all Whitefield's 
misery arose from forgetting, through the deference which 
he paid to the judgment of the Wesleys, the truth declared 



SPIRITUAL LIBERTY. 



25 



in that book. 'The Life of God' was undoubtedly in 
his soul, and would have expanded rapidly, imparting to 
him daily joy. had he not been told that it must grow in 
certain stunted forms, or it was not of God at all ; and the 
attempt to cripple it produced an inevitable agony. Xo 
life, least of all the divine life of the soul, will quietly 
suffer its laws to be violated. The poor servitor was 
taught that truth in a way never to be forgotten. Ever 
afterwards he was careful to go whither the Spirit might 
lead him ; and hence his life was free from the deformities 
of a forced asceticism and the vagaries of a wild spiritual- 
ism. Not that he did not sternly, sometimes almost 
cruelly, deny his body rest and comfort, and urge it on 
to work ; not that he was without 4 experiences 5 of 
spiritual things so rapturous, so excited, so absorbing, 
that, compared with them, the feelings and devotional 
exercises of most saints appear tame and flat ; but there 
was health, there was naturalness in it all. Bis abound- 
ing labours, his 8 weariness and painfullness,' were always 
for the salvation of others, never for his own ; his agonies 
of soul were like those which the Apostle declared that 
he felt for his brethren — a ' travailing in birth until Christ 
should be formed in their hearts.' 

Left alone in his sick-room he felt asain the blessed- 

c 

ness of which he had tasted one memorable draught. 
vVhat book he had been reading, or what devotional 
exercises he had been engaged in when he felt himself 
free again, "does not appear. He simply says, 'About 
the end of the seventh week, after having undergone 
innumerable bufferings of Satan, and many months' in- 
expressible trials by night and day under the spirit of 
bondage, God was pleased at length to remove the 
heavy load, to enable me to lay hold on His dear Son by 
a living faith, and by giving me the Spirit of adoption, 
to seal me, as I humbly hope, even to the day of ever- 
lasting redemption.' Then catching fire at the remem- 



26 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

brance of what lie had felt, he exclaims in his journal : — 
' But oh ! with what joy, joy unspeakable, even joy that 
was full of, and big with, glory, was my soul filled, when 
the weight of sin went off; and an abiding sense of the 
pardoning love of God, and a full assurance of faith broke 
in upon my disconsolate soul ! Surely it was the day of 
my espousals, a day to be had in everlasting remem- 
brance. At first my joys were like a spring-tide, and. as 
it were, overflowed the banks. Go where I would, I 
could not avoid singing of psalms almost aloud; after- 
wards it became more settled, and, blessed be God ! saving 
a few casual intervals, has abode and increased in my 
soul ever since.' 

Oxford had by this time become a, 6 sweet retirement.' 
There he had become a new man ; there the scales had 
fallen from his eyes, and he had beheld the glories of the 
Son of God ; there he had found rest to his soul ; there he 
had united himself to one of the most remarkable bands 
of young men our country has seen ; and it was with 
much reluctance that, on a partial recovery, he yielded to 
the advice of his physician to go to Gloucester till he 
should be quite restored. Oxford was associated with 
his better life ; Gloucester with his baser life. However, 
he determined fi either to make or find a friend,' a person 
of like mind with himself ; and, as soon as he reached 
home, he resolved, after importunate prayer, to go and 
see an acquaintance, evidently a woman of literary tastes 
(to whom he had formerly read 6 Plays, Spectators, 
Pope's Homer, and such like books '), with the intention 
of winning her for Christ. ' She received the Word gladly, 
and soon became a fool for Christ's sake,' is his record 
in his journal. One friend was not enough. Others, young 
persons, were brought under the power of this new 
teaching ; and the Methodist Oxonian soon repeated the 
Oxford experiment, and gathered his converts into a 
society. All had the honour of being despised. Similar 



WHITEFIELD READING THE BIBLE. 



27 



success was not attained at Bristol, to which he went for 
three weeks ; his way was hindered by prejudices against 
himself, and only one young woman became ' obedient to 
the faith.' 

At Gloucester friends were lost and won. Some who 
were expected to give him pecuniary help — he was still 
a servitor — turned their backs on him, and disappointed 
him ; but others, whom he had accounted enemies, though 
he had never spoken to them, became generous friends. 
It was the time of his learning first lessons of trust in that 
Almighty Friend upon whose bountiful and loving care 
he cast himself throughout the whole of a poverty-stricken 
life ; and to whom he committed many orphan children, 
the foundlings of his own loving heart. 

The good Oxford physician had hoped, by getting his 
patient away from the University, to divert him from 
a too intense application to religion. Vain hope ! The 
patient simply pursued, in the spirit of joyous liberty, 
duties and engagements which had previously been an 
anxious burden. He cast aside all other books, and, on 
his bended knees, read and prayed over the Holy Scrip- 
tures. ' Light, life, and power ' came upon him, stimula- 
ting him still to search ; every search brought treasure ; 
all fresh treasure caused fresh searching. There never 
was a mind more capable of deriving unfailing pleasure 
from one pursuit, nor more independent of the changes 
which most of us must have, if we are to keep out of the 
grave and out of the asylum. From the first effort he 
put forth to the last (and he laboured without respite for 
more than thirty years), he never flagged in his ardent 
attachment to the same truth, expressed in the same 
words, looked at from the same standpoint. His latest 
letters cod tain the self-same phrases as his earliest ; and 
they are given with as much feeling as if they were quite 
new. This perpetual, never withering freshness will often 
strike us as we follow him to the end. 



28 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

Besides laborious and prayerful study of the Bible, work 
was undertaken for poor people ; leave was also obtained 
to visit the prisoners in the county-gaol, and they were 
seen every day. He was also permitted to give a public 
testimony of his repentance as to seeing and acting plays. 
Hearing that the strollers were coming to town, and 
knowing what an offender he had been, he prayed that 
he might be put 4 in a way to manifest his abhorrence of 
his former sin and folly.' He was stirred up to make 
extracts from Law's treatise, entitled ' The Absolute Un- 
lawfulness of the Stage Entertainment.' ' God,' he says, 
' gave me favour in the printer's sight ; and at my request 
he put a little of it in the news for six weeks succes- 
sively ; and God was pleased to give it His blessing.' 

At the end of nine months he returned to Oxford, to 
the joy and comfort of his friends. 



29 



CHAPTER II. 
1736. 

HIS ORDINATION AS DEACON — ESSAYS IN PREACHING. 

It was time for the irregular soldier to become a captain 
of the Lord's host ; — time, if a good understanding of the 
word of God, an intense delight in its spirit, and a fer- 
vent desire to preach it, together with abundant scope for 
the exercise of his talents and the concurrent favourable 
judgment of good men, could mark any day of a man's 
life as the time for him to go to the front. The homes 
of the poor and the gaols of Oxford and Gloucester had 
been, along with the halls of Oxford, the finest training 
schools for the coming leader. What progress he had 
made in learning, I cannot say ; for all other considera- 
tions were lost in his supreme pleasure in religion. All 
learning was nothing in comparison of the knowledge of 
God and of His Son Jesus Christ, and in that knowledge 
he was well instructed ; nor was he ignorant of his own 
heart, of its weakness and sinfulness. What natural 
fitness he had for speaking none could fail to perceive, 
when once they heard his rich, sweet voice, and saw the 
artless grace of all his movements. He had not waited 
for a bishop's ordination and license to preach the gospel 
to the poor, any more than Saul of Tarsus waited for 
apostolical recognition before preaching that ' Jesus is 
the Son of God ; ' but a license was ready so soon as 
he found ' peace with God through our Lord Jesus 
Christ.' 

Whitefield was not in a hurry to be publicly ordained. 



30 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

He was well pleased to toil among the lowest ; and 
only at the suggestion of friends did the question of 
his receiving orders come into his mind. It imme- 
diately recalled to him the solemn words of St. Paul to 
Timothy : ' Not a novice, lest, being puffed up with 
pride, he fall into the condemnation of the devil.' A 
question which he must answer on ordination-day, 4 Do 
you trust that you are inwardly moved by the Holy 
Ghost to take upon you this office and administration ? ' 
filled him with trembling. With strong crying and tears 
he often said, 6 Lord, I am a youth of uncircumcised lips ; 
Lord, send me not into the vineyard yet.' He even went 
so far as to ask the prayers of his Oxford friends, that 
God would confound the designs of his Gloucester friends 
to have him at once in orders ; but they, as might have 
been expected, replied, ' Pray we the Lord of the harvest 
to send thee and many more labourers into His harvest.' 
Timidity still held its ground ; he continued to pray 
against becoming a keeper of souls so soon. 

As he had longed to be with the Methodists when he 
saw them insulted, but was staggered when the first ex- 
perience of their daily shame came to his lot, so he was 
' desiring the office of a bishop ' while fearing to enter upon 
it. His sensitive nature was quick to feel the presence of 
difficulties, and frank to acknowledge them ; and hence 
his course was fashioned, not by blindness to objections 
and insensibility to criticism, but by the commanding in- 
fluence of ' the things of God.' Wesley said of him, that, 
' in whatever concerned himself, he was pliant and flexible ; 
in this case he was easy to be entreated, easy to be either 
convinced or persuaded ; but he was immovable in the 
things of God, or wherever his conscience was con- 
cerned. None could persuade, any more than affright, 
him to vary in the least point from that integrity which 
was inseparable from his whole character, and regulated 
all his words and actions.' When friends were urging 



A DKEAM. 



31 



him to be ordained, and he was partially engaged in the 
very work to which ordination officially conducts the 
minister of the Gospel, he was pleasing himself with 
the persuasion that he could not enter holy orders for 
two more years, because Bishop Benson had expressed 
his resolution not to lay hands on any one who was 
under twenty-three years of age. That he strongly 
desired to do what yet he would not do, because his 
judgment and his conscience were not fully convinced, 
is evident from the way in which his mind ran in his 
dreams ; for though he calls the dream spoken of in the 
next sentence ' a notice from God,' it was undoubtedly 
the consequence of his state of mind about the ministry. 
He says, c Long ere I had the least prospect of being 
called before the bishop, I dreamed one night I was 
talking with him in his palace, and that he gave me some 
gold, which seemed to sound again in my hand. After- 
ward this dream would often come into my mind ; and, 
whenever I saw the bishop at church, a strong persuasion 
would arise in my mind, that I should very shortly go to 
him. I always checked it, and prayed to God to pre- 
serve me from ever desiring that honour which cometh 
of man. One afternoon it happened that the bishop 
took a solitary walk — as I was afterwards told — to Lady 
Selwyn's, near Gloucester, who, not long before, had 
made me a present of a piece of gold. She, I found, 
recommended me to the bishop ; and, a few days after, 
as I was coming from the cathedral prayers, thinking of 
no such thing, one of the vergers called after me, and 
said the bishop desired to speak with me. I — forgetful 
at that time of my dream — immediately turned back, 
considering what I had done to deserve his lordship's 
displeasure. When I came to the top of the palace 
stairs, the bishop took me by the hand, told me he was 
glad to see me, and bid me wait a little till he had put 
off his habit, and he would return to me again. This 



32 



LIFE AND TKAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



gave me opportunity of praying to God for His assist- 
ance, and for His providence over me. 

6 At his coming again into the room, the bishop told 
me he had heard of my character, liked my behaviour at 
church, and inquiring my age, " Notwithstanding," says 
he, " I have declared I would not ordain any one under 
three and twenty, yet I shall think it my duty to ordain 
you whenever you come for holy orders." He then 
made me a present of five guineas, to buy me a book ; 
which, sounding again in my hand, put me in mind of 
my dream ; whereupon my heart was filled with a sense 
of God's love.' 

Eager friends knew of the interview before Whitefield 
got home, and were full of anxiety to learn what his 
lordship had said ; and, on hearing it, they at once 
judged that he who should neglect such a plain leading 
of providence would be going against God. It was time 
to yield ; Whitefield determined to offer himself for ordi- 
nation the next Ember-days. 

That determination made, the next question was as to 
his place of labour ; and here contending interests dis- 
turbed him. At Gloucester he had been useful, and his 
friends wished to have him with them. But when he 
went up to Oxford, his old friends there made out a still 
more urgent case on behalf of his staying with them : 
John and Charles ¥^esley had sailed to Savannah to act 
as chaplains to a new colony there, and to attempt the 
conversion of the Creek Indians : the prisoners in the 
gaol needed some one to supply their lack of service : 
Whitefield had been as useful at Oxford as at Gloucester : 
Oxford was one of the schools of the prophets, and every 
student converted was a parish gained. To remove any 
objection of a pecuniary nature which might have been 
urged, application for money aid was made to Sir John 
Philips, who was a great friend of Methodists, and who 
at once said that Whitefield should have twenty pounds 



ORDINATION. 



33 



a year from him, even if he did not stay at Oxford, but 
thirty pounds if he did. Oxford prevailed over Gloucester, 
but its triumph was not for long ; all English-speaking 
countries came and claimed their right in him ; and his 
large, brave heart was not slow to respond. Wesley 
uttered the fine saying — 6 The world is my parish ; ' 
Whitefield, the most nearly of any man, made the saying 
a simple statement of fact. 

Meanwhile devout and conscientious preparation was 
made for the approaching ordination, three days before 
which the candidate waited on the fatherly bishop who 
had shown him such marked kindness, and who now 
expressed his satisfaction both with the candidate's pre- 
paration and the provision of Sir John Philips ; and 
further said, that, but for the intention concerning Ox- 
ford, with which he was well pleased, there were two 
little parishes which he had purposed to offer White- 
field.. The ordination was to be on Trinity Sunday. The 
preceding day was spent by Whitefield in abstinence and 
prayer ; 4 in the evening,' he says, 4 1 retired to a hill 
near the town, and prayed fervently for about two hours, 
in behalf of myself and those who were to be ordained 
with me. On Sunday morning I rose early, and prayed 
over St. Paul's epistle to Timothy, and more particularly 
over that precept, 4 Let no one despise thy youth ; ' and 
when the bishop laid his hands upon my head, if my vile 
heart doth not deceive me, I offered up my whole spirit, 
soul, and body to the service of God's sanctuary; and 
afterwards sealed the good confession I had made before 
many witnesses, by partaking of the holy sacrament of 
our Lord's most blessed body and blood.' Elsewhere he 
says, 4 this is a day ' (June 20, 1736) 4 much to be re- 
membered, my soul ! for, about noon, I was solemnly 
admitted by good Bishop Benson, before many witnesses, 
into holy orders, and was, blessed be God ! kept com- 
posed both before and after imposition of hands. I 

D 



34 LIFE AKD TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 

endeavoured to behave with unaffected devotion, but not 
suitable enough to the greatness of the office I was to 
undertake. At the same time, I trust I answered to 
every question from the bottom of my heart, and heartily 
prayed that God might say Amen. I hope the good of 
souls will be my only principle of action. Let come 
what will, life or death, depth or height, I shall hence- 
forward live like one who this day, in the presence of 
men and angels, took the holy sacrament, upon the pro- 
fession of being inwardly moved by the Holy Ghost to 
take upon me that ministration in the church. This I 
began with reading prayers to the prisoners in the 
county gaol. Whether I myself shall ever have the 
honour of styling myself a prisoner of the Lord, I know 
not ; but, indeed, I can call heaven and earth to witness, 
that when the bishop laid his hand upon me, I gave 
myself up to be a martyr for Him who hung upon the 
cross for me.' 

Who his fellow-candidates were, he nowhere says ; 
and probably not one of them emerged from the ob- 
scurity of their humble parishes. There was not another 
Methodist among them beside WTritefield, or we should 
surely have heard of him. 

A pleasant picture comes before us in the ordination 
of the young deacon in his native city on a Midsummer 
Sunday. No doubt a goodly company of Gloucester 
folk attended the ceremony, and among them the mother 
of the candidate ; her heart big with joy for the early 
honour that had come to him — to him from whom she 
had always expected much comfort ; but little dreaming 
of the greater honour of the future in his world-wide 
usefulness, and in a loving remembrance of him, cherished 
among all who shall ever appreciate disinterested re- 
ligious zeal, or admire genius ; and when, at his bishop's 
command, he read the Gospel, and his manly voice, 
distinct and clear in every note, swept round the cathe- 



' THOU SHALT BE DUMB.' 



35 



dral, it may have come to her mind how he once told 
her that God had called him to be a minister, and how 
she had sharply silenced him, because he seemed too 
graceless for the holy calling. The sweet light of all is 
the benignant countenance of 4 good Bishop Benson,' as it 
is turned in fatherly kindness upon the kneeling candi- 
dates, or lifted up to meet the gaze of the interested con- 
gregation. Such a bishop could not but enhance, with 
great spiritual beauty, an ordinance which can fail to be 
solemn and tender only when its celebrants are sordid 
souls, without the love of God or man. 

Many of Whiten" eld's friends pressed him to preach in 
the afternoon after his ordination, but he could not. He 
had been in Gloucester a fortnight, partly with the inten- 
tion of composing some sermons. He wanted ' a hundred 
at least,' so that he might not be altogether without 
ministerial resources, compelled always to go from the 
study to the pulpit with a newly forged weapon ; but, 
alas ! he found, like many other beginners who have 
attempted the same thing, that sermons cannot easily be 
made without the helping excitement of expected and 
appointed work. He had matter enough in his heart, 
but nothing would flow from his pen. He strove and 
prayed, but all to no purpose. He mentioned his case 
to a clergyman ; but that gentleman showed his refine- 
ment of feeling and his sympathy with a young man's 
anxiety and fear on the threshold of public life, by tell- 
ing Whitefield that he was an enthusiast. He wrote to 
another, and this time the response was kind, assuring 
him of the writer's prayers, and explaining to him why 
God might be dealing with him in this manner. At last 
he thought he found the cause of his inability explained 
by these words : ' We assayed to go into Bithynia, but 
the Spirit suffered us not ; ' and by the words spoken to 
Ezekiel — 4 Thou shalt be dumb ; but when I speak unto 
thee, then shalt thou speak.' This made him quite 

D 2 



36 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

easy ; he did 6 not doubt but that He who increased a 
little lad's loaves and fishes for the feeding of a great 
multitude would, from time to time, supply him with 
spiritual food for whatever congregation he should be 
called to.' The morning after his ordination, while he 
was praying, came these words into his mind — 4 Speak 
out.' How he used that permission, and how his one 
sermon grew till he had preached eighteen thousand 
times, or ten times a week for four-and-thirty years, and 
fed multitudes beyond computation, it will be our next 
duty to trace. 

On the Sunday after his ordination, that is, on June 
27, 1736, Whitefield preached his first sermon. It was 
delivered in the old familiar church to a large congrega- 
tion, which had assembled out of curiosity to hear a 
townsman ; its subject was ' The Necessity and Benefit of 
Eeligious Society.' A feeling of awe crept over him as 
he looked upon the crowd of faces, many of which had 
been familiar to him from his infancy. Former efforts 
in public speaking, when a boy, and his labours in 
exhorting the poor, proved of immense service to him, 
removing — what has often overwhelmed bold and capable 
speakers on their first appearance — the sense of utter 
strangeness to the work ; his soul felt comforted with the 
presence of the Almighty ; and as he proceeded the fire 
kindled, fear forsook him, and he spoke with 'gospel 
authority.' A few mocked ; but there could be no doubt 
about the power of the new preacher. A complaint was 
soon made to the bishop that fifteen persons had been 
driven mad by his sermon. The bishop only replied, 
that he hoped the madness might not be forgotten before 
another Sunday. Nor is that first sermon without another 
touch of interest. It was not prepared, in the first in- 
stance, for St. Mary de Crypt, but for a 4 small Christian 
society ;' a fact which accounts for its being on such an 
unusual topic for beginners, and for the thoroughly 



; SPEAK OUT.' 



37 



Methodistical thoughts found at its close. Just as it had 
been preached to the society was it sent by its author to 
a neighbouring clergyman, to show him how unfit the 
author was to preach ; he kept it a fortnight, and then 
sent it back with a guinea for the loan of it, saying that 
he had divided it into two, and preached it to his people 
morning and evening. 

There is nothing remarkable about it excepting its 
evident juvenile authorship ; its advocacy of religious 
intercourse more close than was then known, either 
within or without the pale of the established church, 
and which still is peculiar to Methodism in its several 
branches ; and its bold attack on ' those seemingly inno- 
cent entertainments and meetings, which the politer part 
of the world are so very fond of, and spend so much 
time in, but which, notwithstanding, keep as many 
persons from a sense of true religion, as doth intem- 
perance, debauchery, or any other crime whatever.' It 
would have made a suitable sermon for inaugurating class 
meetings, or for celebrating an anniversary on their behalf. 
Still, the idea of a class meeting is not to be ascribed 
to Whitefield ; it is Wesley's, through a happy acci- 
dent. 

On Tuesday he preached again, and repeated his 
attacks upon polite sinners. Before he returned to 
Oxford on the Wednesday, Bishop Benson added to all 
his past kindnesses one more, — a present of five guineas, 
which, with a quarter's allowance now due from Sir John 
Philips, enabled him to pay his ordination expenses, and 
take his bachelor's degree. 

For another week he wore the servitor's habit, and 
then assumed the gown of a bachelor of arts. The 
Methodists, who had received him with great joy on his 
return to Oxford, installed him as their chief, and com- 
mitted to his charge the religious oversight of their work, 
and the charity-money which they collected and used for 



38 



LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



poor prisoners. A sweet repose rests upon this part of 
his life. Heart and mind were at peace ; studies were 
pursued with satisfaction ; intercourse with religious 
friends was free and congenial ; private Christian duties, 
prayer, praise, and meditation, charmed him to his room ; 
work was to be done for the defence and spread of truth. 
One would fain stay with him here, and watch his 
growth of thought and preparation for coming toil ; but 
there was no pause or break in this life ; and we must 
presently start with him on his first preaching tour, 
which, unconsciously to himself, really began his circuit 
of England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and North America, 
a circuit which he never ceased to travel until death 
smote him down. Our last glimpse of him in his 6 sweet 
retirement ' sees him poring over Matthew Henry's Com- 
mentary ; and then writing to a friend down at Gloucester 
— fi Herewith I have sent you seven pounds to pay for 
Mr. Henry's Commentary. Dear Squire Thorold lately 
made me a present of ten guineas, so that now (for ever 
blessed be the Divine goodness !) I can send you more than 
I thought for. In time I hope to pay the apothecary's 
bill. If I forget your favours, I shall also forget my God. 
Say nothing of your receiving this money ; only give 
thanks, give hearty thanks to our good and gracious God 
for his infinite, unmerited mercy to me, the vilest of the 
sons of men.' 

Humble, yet far advanced in the favour of God ; 
obscure, yet within a step of dazzling popularity ; poor, 
yet soon to c make many rich;' frail, yet just putting 
out an unwitting hand to labours rivalling in danger, 
in suffering, in shame, and in toilsomeness those of St. 
Paul, he stepped forth from his study before he was 
twenty-two years old. 

A trivial circumstance called him forth. The curate of 
the Tower chapel, London, who was an intimate friend, 
having to go into Hampshire to officiate there for a short 



FIRST SERMON IX LONDON. 



39 



time, asked him to fill his place during his absence from 
home. Whitefield complied with the request, and took 
coach for London on Wednesday, August 4, 1736, with 
much fear and trembling. His first sermon in the metro- 
polis was preached on the following Sunday afternoon, in 
Bishopsgate church. His youthful appearance as he went 
up the pulpit stairs provoked, as he in his sensitive state 
of mind thought, a general sneer, which, however, was 
exchanged for solemn seriousness when he got into his 
sermon. He again conquered himself and his congre- 
gation ; and the people, on his coming down from the 
pulpit, showed him every respect, and blessed him as he 
passed along. No one could answer the question which 
was now on every one's lips — 4 Who was the preacher 
to-day ? ' Attention had been gained, and the two short 
months of the London visit were quite long enough to 
secure a crowded chapel every Sunday. Any ordinary 
man might have been sure of perfect quietness in such a 
place as the Tower chapel, and of returning home as 
unknown as when he entered the city ; and no doubt 
such would have been Whitefield's case but for his 
wonderful powers and for that blessing from above 
which went whithersoever he went. The usual weari- 
some time which ability and worth spend in self- 
culture, in striving with self till it is well mastered, in 
grappling with prejudices, and, not improbably, with 
positive injustice, was a time that never came to White- 
field. Edward Irving preached to an audience which 
cared little for him, though much for his great master, 
Dr. Chalmers ; and worked on hopefully and bravely 
under the shadow of a universal favourite, until the 
little congregation at Hatton Garden 6 gave him a call.' 
Eobert Hall was cramped and galled by the prejudices of 
insignificant men, who compassed him in his early days 
like bees, and had to wait for the approving verdict of 
nobler and better minds. And the discipline was needed; 



40 



LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



it made the after-life all the purer. But Whitefield came 
to manhood in youth ; his sun rose to its zenith at early 
morn. For him to preach was at once to spread ex- 
citement, and draw together masses of people ; and, 
when they came, he never lost his hold upon them. 
His manner always charmed, never offended ; whereas 
the utmost mental ability and personal worth of many 
preachers can hardly sustain the patience of their hearers 
through a beggarly half-hour's sermon. His thought 
was always marked by good sense ; no one could be 
disgusted with inanity. His emotion was always fresh, 
streaming from his heart as from a perennial fountain ; 
and, unless the hearer could not feel, could not be touched 
by tenderness or awe, he was sure to find his soul made 
more sensitive. The hearts of most were melted in the 
intense heat of the preacher's fervour, like silver in a 
refiner's furnace. 

During his stay at the Tower he preached and cate- 
chised once a week, and visited the soldiers in the 
barracks and in the infirmary daily ; every morning and 
evening he read prayers at Wapping chapel ; and on 
the Tuesday he preached at Ludgate prison. 4 Eeligious 
friends from divers parts of the town,' he says, £ attended 
the word, and several young men came on Lord's day 
morning under serious impressions, to hear me discourse 
about the new birth. The chapel was crowded on Lord's 
days/ 

Here a letter reached him from his old friends the Wes- 
leys, which told all that they were doing in Georgia, and 
made him long to go and join them. But difficulties 
stood in the way. He had no 6 outward call,' and his 
health was supposed to be unequal to a sea voyage. He 
strove to throw off the new thoughts and feelings ; prayed 
that the Lord would not suffer him to be deluded ; and 
asked the counsel of his friends. His friends were not 
less sensible in advising, than he had been in asking for 



THE FUTURE OUTLINED, 



41 



advice. They, too, laid emphasis on the absence of a 
definite call from abroad ; they urged the need of 
labourers at home, and begged their friend to avoid 
rashness, and wait further for an intimation of the will 
of God. Their counsel was received with all respect ; 
and Whitefield, agreeing that it was best to do so, 
banished Georgia from his mind for the present, and 
went on heartily with his preaching and visiting, until 
the return of his friend from the country. 

Then he went back to his delightful life at Oxford for 
a few weeks more ; and, for the last time, his quiet duties 
were resumed. His state of mind seemed to presage the 
wonders of his ministry ; his heart burned with even 
more than its former fervour ; and other students having 
received a similar impulse to their spiritual life, White- 
field's room was daily the scene of such religious services 
as distinguished the Church immediately after the descent 
of the Holy Ghost at Pentecost, when little bands of 
devout disciples met to pray and to encourage each other 
in the profession of the name of Jesus Christ. 

Kindness waited on him during these few weeks, as it 
did during the rest of his life. His power to win the 
hearts of rich and poor, which, as Doctor Johnson would 
have said, always kept his friendships in repair, had 
constrained the heart of a gentleman in London, who, 
without the least solicitation, sent him money for the 
poor, and also as much for himself as sufficed to dis- 
charge a small debt contracted for books before he took 
his degree. Lady Betty Hastings, sister of the Earl of 
Huntingdon, also assisted both him and some of his 
Methodist friends, thus beginning an intimacy between 
him and her family which lasted as long as he lived, and 
grew deeper towards the end. 

Things were beginning to give promise of the future ; 
the dim outline of his career was distinguishable. College 
quietness had been broken; a first attempt at public 



42 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WII1TEFIELD. 



work liacl been successfully made. Georgia had come 
before his mind ; and, although banished for a while, it 
was soon to return, and the next time with an imperative 
message. 

In November, another call to preach came to him ; 
and it was sent upon a principle which has been so ex- 
tensively put in practice by a large section of clergymen 
in the Church of England, as to demand more than pass- 
ing mention. The early Methodist preachers, who were 
the true predecessors, in a spiritual line, of the later 
6 Evangelical School ' of the Church of England, were the 
first to set the example, which the Evangelicals have 
largely copied, of always seeking men of their own reli- 
gious views to fill their pulpits when they had occasion 
to be from home. It was not enough simply to seek the 
aid of any brother clergyman. Their clear persuasion 
that they held the saving doctrines of the gospel ; that 
they were moved by the Holy Ghost ; and that through 
such channels the largest supplies of the grace of life 
were likely to come — not to say could alone come — upon 
the hearers, compelled them to hold fast to each other, 
and to keep away from their pulpits and from their 
parishes every man who did not avow himself one of 
their faith. There was nothing to condemn in such 
exclusiveness generally ; for most men would prefer to 
have their teaching substantiated and confirmed by 
others, rather than condemned and assailed, even should 
they not attach to it the vital importance which Metho- 
dists attached to their doctrines. That a touch of spi- 
ritual pride may not have been felt when they practically 
constituted themselves into a spiritual priesthood which 
was alone fit to minister the 8 word of life ;' when they 
established a spiritual church within a church ; when 
they repudiated the right, because questioning the fitness, 
of any other clergyman to preach, it would be hazardous 
to affirm. But, on the other hand, it would be an un- 



WHITEFIELD AS A COUNTRY PARSON. 



43 



charitable, an unjust charge against them, were they chal- 
lenged with ecclesiastical or church pride, in addition to 
a fault of which they may, or may not, have been guilty. 
All their anxiety was, that the truth of God should 
be spoken by men of God ; and they elected to have a 
judgment as to who was a man of God, without being 
bound by any previous church action in regard to him. 
That he had been ordained was to them no proof of his 
investiture by Heaven of authority to fill his office and 
ministry ; indeed, they quickly came to the conclusion, 
that, with or without ordination, any one who was a 
believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, and full of the Holy 
Ghost, was fit to preach, and ought to have the counte- 
nance of all true Christians in the fulfilment of his duty. 
They would not have accounted a surgeon fit for his pro- 
fession merely because he was in it ; and although the 
Church might, upon certain required declarations, have 
made a man a priest, yet they still contended that they 
had a right to judge whether he was a good priest or a bad 
one ; and, in case he showed himself to be a bad one, to 
treat him according to his character. It was not less than 
sincere men could have done ; it is not less than is daily 
done now, none finding fault. Thus it was that the Metho- 
dist clergyman of Dummer, in Hampshire, ' being likely 
to be chosen dean of Corpus Christi College,' sent for the 
Methodist deacon of Pembroke to preach for him, while 
he himself went to Oxford to attend to the pending pro- 
motion. The young deacon asked, as usual, the advice 
of his friends ; and the two friends exchanged places. 

Trouble now arose from an unexpected quarter. He 
who had felt himself to be the vilest of men could not 
'brook' having intercourse with the poor, illiterate people 
of the would-be Dean of Corpus Christi ! Amidst the 
moral and intellectual barrenness of his new charge, 
Whitefield would have given all the world for one of his 
Oxford friends, and 6 mourned for lack of them like a 



44 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFTELD. 

dove.' To overcome his unholy aversion he gave him- 
self to prayer, and to the study of a fictitious character, 
6 Ourania,' which William Law has sketched in his 'Serious 
Call to a Devout Life,' as a pattern of humility. The 
unlovely rustics became more pleasant to his eye, and he 
found, what everybody finds who goes amongst the poor 
with a warm heart, that their conversation, artless, 
honest, and fresh, was full of instruction and stimulus ; 
his new friends successfully contended for his heart 
against the old ones. It became no unpalatable duty to 
go and visit them, seeing they often taught him as much 
in an afternoon as he could learn by a week's private 
study. He imbibed the spirit of the Apostle, who was 
ready £ to become all things to all men, if by any means 
he might save some ;' the spirit, too, of a greater than St. 
Paul, whom ' the common people heard gladly.' 

His friend had also set him a good example of method 
in his work, which he wisely followed. Public prayers 
were read twice a day — in the morning before the people 
went out to work, and in the evening after they returned ; 
children were also catechised daily, and the people 
visited from house to house. His day was divided into 
three parts ; eight hours for study and retirement ; eight 
for sleep and meals ; and eight for reading prayers, cate- 
chising, and visiting the parish. 

During this visit he had an invitation to a profitable 
curacy in London, no doubt through his London labours ; 
but it was declined. A more inviting, because a more 
difficult and more trying, sphere of labour w T as Georgia, 
to which he was now called in a way earnest enough to 
arouse all the enthusiasm of his ardent soul, and plain 
enough to leave him without a doubt that God willed 
that he should go. While the agreeable quietude and 
holy companionships of Oxford were continued to him, 
Georgia was not thought of ; but removal from them 
revived all the agitation and anxiety that he had felt 



CALL TO GEORGIA. 



45 



when Georgian news first reached him at the Tower. A 
predisposition in favour of the new colony was in process 
of formation when, in December, news came of the 
return of Charles Wesley. Next there came a letter 
from his old friend, stating that he had come over for 
labourers ; but adding, with reference to Whitefield, — 
6 1 dare not prevent God's nomination.' A few days 
elapsed, and a letter came from John, couched in 
stronger and less diffident language than Charles had 
used. So strange and unexpected are the changes which 
come over the course of events in life, that Wesley, who 
was shortly to leave America, and never again visit it, 
could write in this urgent and confident way — 4 Only 
Mr. Delamotte is with me, till God shall stir up the hearts 
of some of His servants, who, putting their lives in their 
hands, shall come over and help us, where the harvest is 
so great, and the labourers so few. What if thou art the 
man, Mr. Whitefield ? ' Another of his letters, by pre- 
senting to Whitefield's mind nothing but heavenly 
rewards, was still better calculated to secure his co- 
operation — 4 Do you ask me,' he says, £ what you shall 
have ? Food to eat, and raiment to put on, a house to lay 
your head in such as your Master had not, and a crown 
of glory that fadeth not away.' As Whitefield read, his 
heart leaped within him, and echoed to the call. The 
call was heaven-sent, if ever any call has been. 

The United States, then a line of English colonies, were 
to share largely in Whitefield's labours, and he as largely 
in their kindness and generosity ; and that hand which 
was beckoning him to their shore, was quietly and effec- 
tually undoing the ties which held him to England. Mr. 
Kinchin obtained the appointment of Dean of Corpus 
Christi, and could take Whitefield's place as the leader of 
Methodism at Oxford. Mr. Hervey was ready to serve 
the cure of Dummer. No place would suffer from White- 
field's departure, and there seemed to be a necessity for 



46 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



him to help Georgia, which was a young, increasing 
colony, enjoying much favour from the home govern- 
ment. Besides, there were many Indians near the colony, 
and Whitefield felt the stirrings of a missionary spirit. 
As for the old hindrance of his supposed inability to 
endure a sea voyage, it was disposed of by the report 
that the sea was sometimes beneficial to feeble people. 
In any case, whether the experiment turned out well or 
ill, he would have to return for priest's orders, and it 
would then be for him to decide where his field of labour 
was to be. In short, the decision was given in favour of 
Georgia, and in a way that made alteration almost out of 
the question. Neither Oxford friends nor Gloucester 
relations were this time consulted ; but a firm, personal 
resolution was made, which nothing was to be allowed 
to assail. Eelations were informed of his intentions, but 
told that he would not so much as come to bid them 
farewell, unless they promised not to dissuade him ; for 
he said that he knew his own weakness. 

However, his weakness so far gained upon him as to 
send him down to Gloucester on New Year's Day, 
1736-7, after he had said goodbye to his friends at 
Oxford ; and his strength had so much increased that he 
succeeded in abiding by his purpose. Bishop Benson 
welcomed him as a father, approved of his design, wished 
him success, and said, 6 1 do not doubt but God will bless 
you, and that you will do much good abroad.' But his 
4 own relations at first were not so passive. His mother 
wept sore' — which was both to his credit and hers. 
Others tempted him with base words, which must have 
buttressed his citadel, instead of undermining it ; they 
4 urged what pretty preferments he might have if he 
would stay at home.' He showed no wavering, and the 
opposition ceased. 

This farewell visit was marked by that constant industry 
which distinguished him to the last. He preached often 



FIRST SERMON AT BRISTOL. 47 

enough 6 to grow a little popular,' and to gather large con- 
gregations, which were moved by the word of God. In 
three weeks he went to Bristol to take leave of his friends 
there ; and again he preached, undertaking duty this time 
in an unexpected way. It being his custom, go where he 
might, to attend the daily services of the Church, he went 
to St. John's to hear a sermon. When prayers were over, 
and the psalm was being sung, the minister came to him 
and asked him to preach. 4 Having his notes about him, 
he complied.' The next day the same thing was repeated 
at St. Stephen's, but this time the 4 alarm' excited by his 
preaching was so widespread, that, on the following Sunday, 
crowds of people, of all denominations, 4 Quakers, Bap- 
tists, Presbyterians, &c.' nocked to the churches where 
he had to officiate, and many were unable to find admis- 
sion. The civic authorities paid him respect, the mayor 
appointing him to preach before himself and the corpo- 
ration. 4 For some time following he preached all the 
lectures on week-days, and twice on Sundays, besides 
visiting the religious societies.' As always, so now, he 
preached with power and with the Holy Ghost ; and the 
new doctrines — new as compared with the prevalent 
teaching of the times — of justification by faith and the 
new birth — 4 made their way like lightning into the 
hearers' consciences.' It is touching to mark the holy 
jealousy with which, amid the city's excitement and eager- 
ness to hear him, he entreated a friend — 4 Oh ! pray, dear 
Mr. H., that God would always keep me humble, and 
fully convinced that I am nothing without Him, and that 
all the good which is done upon earth, God doth it 
Himself.' 



48 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



CHAPTER III. 
March, 1737— March, 1738. 

APPOINTED CHAPLAIN TO THE GEORGIAN COLONY FIRST POPULARITY 

FIRST VOYAGE. 

Georgia was the last colony founded in America by 
England. Its charter was dated the ninth day of June, 
1732 ; its name was given in honour of George II. 
Eeasons, partly political and partly philanthropical, actu- 
ated the original Trustees of the colony and the imperial 
government in undertaking the work. The chief poli- 
tical reason was, that the Spaniards and the French were 
likely to disturb the possessions already held by the 
British crown on the American sea-board, and Georgia 
was intended to be an outpost for holding them in check. 
How its exposed position caused Whitefield and his 
friends no little anxiety will by-and-by appear. 

The philanthropical reason was discovered by James 
Oglethorpe, who, as a commissioner for inquiring into 
the state of the gaols throughout the kingdom, had found 
out how vast and how intense was the misery hidden in 
them. His attention was especially directed to the state 
of poor debtors, many of whom had been so long in con- 
finement that when, at his intercession with Parliament, 
they were released, they went out both friendless and 
helpless. It was necessary to find a home for them, and 
not leave them to face fresh temptations and fresh risks 
of finding their way back to prison. The population of 
England was also thought to be greater than the country 
could well sustain ; and Oglethorpe anticipated the satis- 



COLONISATION OF GEORGIA. 



49 



faction of transplanting many families to enjoy riches and 
comfort in the new land, which was described as a land 
of beauty and plenty, instead of enduring poverty and 
wretchedness at home. The Highlanders of Scotland, 
who, although they did not swarm among their native 
hills and valleys, like the poor in the yards of London, 
yet had poverty to complain of, and were restless through 
political troubles not long past and gone ; and many of 
these also accepted the opportunity of emigrating. The 
sympathy of Oglethorpe, a man of somewhat romantic, as 
well as philanthropic, turn of mind, was also called out 
towards the persecuted Protestants of Germany ; and 
through the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel an 
invitation was given to the Saltzburgers, who had been 
driven from their homes by Eoman Catholic cruelty and 
bigotry, to settle in the new colony, where Catholics 
would not be permitted to come. 

The first company of emigrants, numbering one hundred 
and twenty, and headed by Oglethorpe, was composed 
principally of poor English. After they landed, a vessel, 
containing twenty Jewish families, sailed into their waters, 
and permission was asked and gained to land and settle in 
the colony. Next came a vessel carrying forty convicts, 
who had been refused at Jamaica ; but Georgia, not being 
equally dainty in her tastes, received them, and in due 
time found them troublesome enough. 

The second company of emigrants, numbering three 
hundred persons, and also headed by Oglethorpe, was 
composed of English, Scotch, and Moravians. The two 
Wesleys, with their friends Delamotte and Ingham, were 
on board one of the vessels. 

The governing power of the colony was, for the first 
twenty-one years, in the hands of twenty-one Trustees, 
4 who collected money for fitting out the colonists and 
maintaining them, till they could clear the lands;' ap- 
pointed all the officers, and 4 regulated all the concerns 

E 



50 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE W1I1TEFIELD. 



of the colony.' A considerable proportion of them were 
Presbyterians, and at their head was the fourth Earl 
of Shaftesbury. Oglethorpe, the most active and the 
most distinguished of their number, was appointed gover- 
nor of the colony; in 1737, he was created brigadier- 
general. 

The Trustees 'prohibited the introduction of ardent 
spirits,' says Bancroft, but Whitefielcl mentions rum as 
the only liquor prohibited. They also forbade the intro- 
duction of slaves. The testimony of Oglethorpe, who yet 
had once been willing to employ Negroes, and once, at 
least, ordered the sale of a slave, explains the motive of 
the prohibition. ' Slavery,' he relates, 6 is against the 
gospel, as well as the fundamental law of England. We 
refused, as Trustees, to make a law permitting such a 
horrid crime.' 4 The purchase of Negroes is forbidden,' 
wrote Yon Eeck, 4 on account of the vicinity of the 
Spaniards ; ' and this was doubtless 4 the governmental 
view.' The colony was also 6 an asylum to receive the 
distressed. It was necessary, therefore, not to permit 
slaves in such a country, for slaves starve the poor 
labourer.' But, after a little more than two years, several 
'of the better sort of people in Savannah' addressed a 
petition to the Trustees 4 for the use of Negroes.' 1 With 
this opinion of the Trustees the Moravians thoroughly 
agreed ; and, 4 in earnest memorials, they long depre- 
cated the employment of Negro slaves, pleading the 
ability of the white man to toil even under the suns of 
Georgia.' 2 

The first lot of emigrants fixed their settlement on the 
banks of the Savannah, under the direction of Oglethorpe ; 
and friendly relations were established with the Creeks, 
the Indians of the country, who numbered 25,000. Their 

1 Bancroft's ' History of the Colonisation of the United States/ vol. iii. 
p. 426. 

* Ibid. p. 430. 



A WICKED CHAPLAIN. 



51 



rights were respected, and their goodwill conciliated. 
Everything showed a desire on the part of the Trustees 
and their representative to make the colony morally 
sound and useful. It was not to be a marauding expe- 
dition in any sense ; and was to enjoy, as far as possible, 
all the social advantages of the mother country. 

With a view of keeping the sanctions of religion before 
the minds of the settlers, a chaplain, by name Bosomworth, 
was sent out w T ith the first company ; his fitness for his 
office proved to be nothing but a simulated piety. He 
soon directed his attention to other things than his spi- 
ritual duties, and by his artful use of the poor Indians 
almost succeeded in ruining the colony. There was 
among the Indians a native woman, named Mary Mus- 
grove, who had formerly lived among the English in 
some more northern settlements, and her the new comers 
employed as interpreter between themselves and the 
natives. Her position thus became very influential ; and 
Bosomworth took her to himself for wife, doubtless with 
the intention of using her as a tool for his own ambitious 
ends. He first inflamed the pride of the Indians by per- 
suading them to crown one of the greatest of their 
number 4 as prince and emperor of all the Creeks ; ' then 
he made his wife declare herself to be the eldest sister of 
the new sovereign, and the granddaughter of a former 
Creek king, whom the Great Spirit himself had conse- 
crated to the kingly office. He next got Mary to declare 
to a large assembly of her countrymen, that the whites 
were oppressing and robbing them, and deserved exter- 
mination. Assuming the attitude of a second Boadicea, 
she called them to arm themselves, to stand by her, and 
to drive the enemy from their territories. Nor were they 
slow to respond. Every chief swore fidelity to her ; 
warriors painted themselves with war-paint ; tomahawks 
were sharpened to cleave British skulls. A dusky army, 
headed by the royal lady and her chaplain-husband, 

£ 2 



52 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE 1 WHITEFIELD. 

inarched against Savannah ; but their progress was effec- 
tually stopped by a little company of horsemen, led by 
an intrepid man, named Noble Jones. The leaders were 
ordered into the city ; the chiefs might follow without 
arms. Oglethorpe found, from a friendly interview witli 
the natives, that they had been deceived, and that his 
own chaplain was the cause of the mischief, which had 
been intended to end only with the destruction of all the 
whites. Bosomworth was ordered to prison, but this 
measure was bravely resisted by Mary, who cursed the 
general to his face, and declared that she stood upon ground 
which was her own. Such a spirit could only be safely 
dealt with in one way, and Mary too was thrown into 
prison. A conciliatory course was pursued towards the 
Indians ; they were entertained at a feast ; and the trick 
which had been played upon them exposed in calm and 
friendly intercourse. But while all things were going on 
so pleasantly, Mary managed to escape from prison. 
Hearing of the feast, she dashed in among the company, 
exclaiming, 4 Seize your arms ! seize your arms ! Ee- 
member your promise, and defend your queen.' The 
scene was changed at once; the guests stood with toma- 
hawk in hand, ready to slay their hosts, and turn a 
feasting-hall into a shambles. Noble Jones was again 
equal to the emergency ; with his drawn sword he de- 
manded peace. Mary, to whom the Indians looked for 
directions, quailed under his courage, and was quietly led 
back by him to prison. Confinement humbled husband 
and wife, who, upon confession of their wrong and after 
promising amendment, were suffered to go free and leave 
the city. But again they laid an unsuccessful plot to 
seize three of the Sea Islands. The crafty man next ap- 
pealed with more success to the law of England, and 
actually succeeded in getting one of the islands, St. Ca- 
therine's, as his own property, by a legal judgment. Here 
he lived supreme. Here he buried Mary, and also a 



THE WESLEYS CALLED TO GEORGIA. 



53 



second wife, formerly one of his servants. When he died, 
he was buried between them. 

Such a chaplain was not good either for colonist or 
native ; and one can hardly wonder that a native chief, 
when urged to embrace Christianity, should have said, 
and should have had good ground for doing so, ' Why, 
these are Christians at Savannah ! these are Christians at 
Frederica ! Christian much drunk ! 1 Christian beat men ! 
Christian tell lies ! Devil Christian ! Me no Christian ! ' 

The Trustees did not, on account of one failure, lose 
all faith in their plan of having a chaplain. One of their 
number, Dr. Burton, of Corpus Christi College, knowing 
the religious zeal of John Wesley and his contempt for 
the ordinary comforts of life, recommended him to 
Oglethorpe as the right kind of- man for the rough work 
to be done. At first Wesley refused to entertain the 
offer made to him ; but his mother's willingness to part 
with him when such a duty called, finally decided him to 
accept it. His brother Charles, though already ordained, 
also accompanied him in the capacity of secretary to the 
governor. They reached Savannah on February 5, 1736. 
John was to stay there ; and Charles was to accompany 
the governor to Frederica, on the island of St. Simon's, 
another settlement on the coast, about one hundred miles 
farther south. 

Nothing could have been more unfortunate, nothing 
more unwise, than the conduct of these two estimable 
men in their respective spheres of duty. John, mis- 
guided by the same mistaken views which he held so sin- 
cerely and so vigorously while at Oxford, treated his 
charge (with whom he ought to have been gentle and 
forbearing) as a mediaeval abbot might have treated a 
band of monks who had vowed obedience to his sternest 
rules. He would baptize infants only by immersion. 

1 ' Christian much drunk/ because, when rum was prohibited, the ' Chris- 
tians ' had it smuggled in. 



54 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WII1TEFIELD. 

When a Dissenter, evidently as good a Christian, if not 
better than himself, desired to communicate, he would 
not suffer him to do so unless he would consent to be 
baptized again ; and to another Dissenter he denied (with 
a bigotry unhappily still lingering among some English 
clergymen) the right of Christian burial. He either be- 
came or seemed to become, so personal in his attacks 
upon the vices and follies of his hearers — and it is easy to 
believe that he would see plenty of both in such a com- 
munity — that he soon had a greatly diminished audience. 
He seemed bent upon driving the people to accept his 
own rigid form of religion, and the people were equally 
determined not to be driven. Law was in his lips con- 
stantly, but not 4 the law of kindness,' although he was 
one of the kindest of men. The consequence was a wide- 
spread and deep dislike of him and of his teaching, which 
culminated when he refused the sacrament to a Miss 
Causton, with whom he had become intimate after his 
arrival, and who had sought to entrap him into marriage. 
In his unhappy connexion with this lady he behaved 
with perfect uprightness, while she and General Ogle- 
thorpe, her prompter, were as much to be condemned. 
Oglethorpe had thought to cure the eccentricities and 
sweeten the severity of his chaplain, by getting him 
married ; and Sophia Causton was to play the en- 
chantress. But, fortunately for Wesley, his friends saw 
further into the young lady's heart than he did ; and 
being warned that all was not sincere, he broke off the 
connexion. His denying her the sacrament (by this time 
she had married a Mr. Williamson) was undoubtedly the 
result of those inflexible notions of duty which had 
brought him into such ill-favour with the colonists, and 
not of any petty feeling of revenge. He must have known 
that his intended action would expose him to attack, both 
publicly and privately ; yet he resolutely carried out his 
purpose. Private persecution and public legal action 



JOHN WESLEY IN GEORGIA. 



55 



were put in force against him. He met them without 
flinching. It was only when he saw that his usefulness was 
at an end that he thought of returning home ; and when 
he left the colony, it was with a hearty defiance flung in 
the face of those who would have crushed him by legal 
impositions. If at this time he lacked St. Paul's gentle 
charity and forbearance, he lacked none of his resolute- 
ness of self-defence. Before leaving, he called upon his 
hottest enemy — Mrs. Williamson's uncle, the chief magis- 
trate of Savannah — told him of his intention, and asked 
for money for the expenses of his voyage. He also 
posted the following notification and request in the city 
square: — 'Whereas John W r esley designs shortly to set 
out for England, this is to desire those who have bor- 
rowed any books of him to return them as soon as they 
conveniently can.' Being forbidden by the magistrates 
to leave the province until he had answered the allega- 
tions brought against him (though he was leaving simply 
because he was tormented by constant appearances before 
courts which wearied him, and hindered him from doing 
good), or until he had offered sufficient bail for his ap- 
pearance, he told them that they should have neither 
bond nor bail from him, and added the plain words, 
1 You know your business, and I know mine.' The order, 
6 not meant to be obeyed,' that he was to be taken into 
custody if he attempted to escape from the province, did 
not move him ; and he left indignant and defiant. 4 Being,' 
he says, ' now only a prisoner at large in a place where I 
knew by experience every day would give fresh oppor- 
tunity to procure evidence of words I never said, and 
actions I never did, I saw clearly the hour was come for 
leaving this place ; and soon as evening prayers were 
over, about eight o'clock, the tide then serving, I shook 
off the dust of my feet, and left Georgia, after having 
preached the gospel there (not as I ought, but as I was 
able) one year and nearly nine months.' 



56 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE "WHITE FIELD. 

At Frederica, Charles Wesley was as soon and as 
deeply in trouble as his brother. He too began on the 
stern Methodistical plan among his people, which, as we 
have already seen, nearly drove Whitefield insane ; and, 
in six days, all the place was in a ferment of passion. 
Where wise men would have shut their eyes, and let 
troubles and differences right themselves, he felt bound 
to interfere, and so made bad worse. The women hated 
him more than the men ; and some of them, reputed to 
have been of £ lax morality,' persuaded their husbands 
and friends to use their influence with the governor for 
the removal of a man who would administer reproof and 
maintain discipline among them. After an attempt to 
shoot him had failed, the plan of falsely accusing Charles 
of stirring up the people to rebel and leave the colony 
was adopted, and was only too successful. It was easy 
for men to pretend that they were dissatisfied, and would 
not live where the chaplain was always making trouble ; 
and when Oglethorpe, who had been absent in another 
part of the colony during the rise of the agitation, re- 
turned, his mind was unfairly set against Charles Wesley 
by the lying tales carried to him. Even when the charge 
was disproved he remained suspicious, embittered, and 
cruel ; partly because, with all his generosity and magna- 
nimity, he was of quick temper and fickle in resolution, 
and partly because his circumstances were vexatious. 
His anger had much provocation. His was the task of 
building up, and every one else seemed to be going on 
the principle that it was equally his task to pull down. 

Very dark days were those which the luckless, well- 
meaning chaplain spent under the frown of the governor 
and the colonists ; and only an honest conscience could 
have upheld him in his work. So extreme were the 
hatred and ill-treatment to which he was subjected, that 
he exclaimed, ' Thanks be to God, it is not yet made 
capital to give me a morsel of bread ! The people have 



Charles wesley in geokgia. 



found out that I am in disgrace ; my few well-wishers are 
afraid to speak to me ; some have turned out of the way 
to avoid me ; others have desired that I would not take it 
ill if they seemed not to know me when we should meet. 
The servant who used to wash my linen sent it back un- 
washed. It was great cause of triumph that I was for- 
bidden the use of Mr. Oglethorpe's things, which in effect 
debarred me of most of the conveniences, if not the 
necessaries, of life. I sometimes pitied them, and some- 
times diverted myself with the odd expressions of their 
contempt.' Boards for a bedstead were denied him, and 
he had to lie on the bare ground in a hut. One night, 
when he was dreadfully ill of fever, he had the luxury of 
sleeping on a bed left by a poor man whom he had buried, 
and which he thought might very properly fall to his lot, 
but, before the third night, it was cruelly removed by the 
order of Oglethorpe, who refused to spare him a car- 
penter to mend him up another. 

At length that caprice of temper which, aggravated by 
circumstances, had helped the governor to maintain the 
quarrel, enabled him to make approaches to Wesley for 
the purpose of reconciling their differences. He admitted 
the folly and injustice of his late anger, which he im- 
puted to his want of time for consideration. He said, 4 1 
know not whether separate spirits regard our little con- 
cerns. If they do, it is as men regard the follies of their 
childhood, or as I my late passionateness.' He ordered 
Charles whatever he could think he wanted ; promised to 
have a house built for him immediately ; and was just the 
same to him as he had formerly been. The people soon 
found out that he had been taken into favour again, and 
showed it by their 6 provoking civilities.' Three months 
afterwards he sailed for England, bearing despatches from 
the -governor, and never returned to the Georgian chap- 
laincy, in which he had so signally failed. 

If we consider the trouble with Bosom worth, the con- 



58 



LIFE AXL) TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 



tentions at Savannah, and the disaffection at Frederica, 
we must admit that the irritation and temporary harsh- 
ness of the governor are not without large excuse. He 
could hardly have helped suspecting the fidelity of his 
secretary when a charge was openly laid against him, and 
when he remembered their recent peril from the Indians. 
Something, too, of dislike to the clerical order could 
hardly have been absent from his mind ; indeed it was 
much to his credit that he did not resolve never again to 
suffer a clerk within the settlement, 

Yet 'James Oglethorpe, Esq., and the Honourable 
Trustees ' received the young preacher, George Whitelield, 
with kindness, when he appeared before them early in 
March, 1737, desiring an appointment in their colony of 
Georgia. The Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop 
of London both approved of AVhitefiekVs design ; the 
former prelate, however, expressing himself in these un- 
gracious words : 4 1 shall take particular notice of such 
as go to Georgia, if they do not go out of any sinister 
view.' A nature more resentful than Whitefield's might 
have flashed up at such an insinuation, or have carried it 
as a secret wound ; but all that \Yhitefield remarks is, 
6 This put me upon inquiry what were my motives in 
going ; and, after the strictest examination, my conscience 
answered — Xot to please any man living upon earth, nor 
out of any sinister view ; but simply to comply with what 
I believe to be Thy will, God, and to promote Thy 
glory, Thou great Shepherd and Bishop of souls." 

It was not an easy thing to sail to a distant land a 
hundred and thirty years ago. A prolonged stay, en- 
forced by the slow despatch of business, or by the absence 
of favourable winds, often gave the traveller more than 
one opportunity of saying farewell to his friends ; and, 
even when embarkation fairly took place, it was no 
guarantee that he was finally gone. A calm might 
land him at any port on the British shores, and from 



WHITEFIELD AT STOREHOUSE. 



59 



thence he was sure to communicate with his friends. 
Thus it happened that Whitefield, after his appointment, 
continued three weeks in London, waiting for Mr. Ogle- 
thorpe, who was expecting to sail every day ; and then, 
at last, quietly betook himself to Stonehouse in Gloucester- 
shire, to supply the place of a clerical friend who went 
to London on business. Of course the time spent in the 
metropolis was devoted to preaching, and Stonehouse 
was to prove a happier Dummer. A little 6 society ' of 
pious people had prayed for him to be sent amongst 
them, and great was their joy when he came. The rest 
of the parishioners, all of them well instructed in Christian 
truth, gave him a kindly welcome to their homes, and 
attended his ministry with pleasure. His meetings in 
private houses and the public services in the church were 
both attended by overflowing congregations. It was a 
time of much spiritual gladness with him. ' I found,' he 
says, ' uncommon manifestations granted me from above. 
Early in the morning, at noonday, evening, and midnight, 
nay, all the day long, did the blessed Jesus visit and re- 
fresh my heart. Could the trees of a. certain wood near 
Stonehouse speak, they would tell what sweet communion 
I and some dear souls enjoyed with the ever-blessed God 
there. Sometimes, as I have been walking, my soul would 
make such sallies that I thought it would go out of the 
body. At other times I would be so overpowered with 
a sense of God's infinite majesty, that I would be con- 
strained to throw myself prostrate on the ground, and 
offer my soul as a blank in His hands, to write on it what 
He pleased. One night was a time never to be forgotten. 
It happened to lighten exceedingly. I had been ex- 
pounding to many people, and some being afraid to go 
home, I thought it my duty to accompany them, and im- 
prove the occasion, to stir them up to prepare for the 
second coming of the Son of man ; but oh ! what did my 
soul feel ? On my return to the parsonage-house, whilst 



60 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



others were rising from their beds, and frightened almost 
to death, to see the lightning run upon the ground, and 
shine from one part of the heaven to the other, I and 
another, a poor but pious countryman, were in the field 
praising, praying to, and exulting in, our God, and long- 
ing for that time when Jesus shall be revealed from 
heaven in a flame of fire ! Oh that my soul may be in a 
like frame when He shall actually come to call me ! ' 

The gentleness and sweetness of spring had their at- 
tractions for him, as well as the thunder and lightning 
which so vividly reminded him of the signs of the second 
coming of our Lord. It was early in May, and the 
country, he says, ' looked to me like a second paradise, 
the pleasantest place I ever was in through all my life.' 
The thought of leaving 4 Stonehouse people,' with whom 
he 4 agreed better and better,' touched his affectionate 
heart not a little, and he wrote to a friend — 6 1 believe 
we shall part weeping.' There had been but a month's 
short intercourse with them, and they were the flock of 
another pastor ; but it was Whitefleld's way to love 
people and to labour for them as if he had known them 
a lifetime, never jealous of anyone, nor dreaming that 
anyone could be jealous of him ; and when he took his 
leave on Ascension Day, ' the sighs and tears,' he says, 
6 almost broke my heart. Many cried out with Euth, 
" whither thou goest, I will go ; where thou lodgest, I 
will lodge." But I only took one with me, who proved 
a good servant, and is, I believe, a true follower of our 
ever blessed Jesus.' 

The guest whom Stonehouse was sorry to part with, 
Bristol was glad to receive ; indeed the people there, 
gratefully remembering Whitefleld's visit to them in 
February, insisted upon his coming to see them again. 
The account of their enthusiastic reception of him reads 
more like an extract from the journal of a conquering 
general, or from that of a prince on a progress through 



EXCITEMENT AT BKISTOL. 



61 



his provinces, than that of a young clergyman, twenty- 
two years old. Multitudes on foot and many in coaches 
met him a mile outside the city gates ; and as he passed 
along the street in the midst of his friends, almost every 
one saluted and blessed him. The general joy was deep- 
ened, when, to his own regret, Mr. Oglethorpe sent him 
word, that their departure for America would be delayed 
two months longer. Bristol was completely under the 
spell of its visitor, or rather of him and the doctrines he 
preached. The rich forsook their comforts and pleasures, 
to jostle and push among the crowd which five times 
every week besieged the church where Whitefield was to 
preach. The quiet Quaker left the unimpassionecl talk 
of his meeting-house to feel the thrill of oratory. The 
uncompromising Nonconformist left his chapel for the 
church, where he had too often failed to find the heart- 
searching preaching which alone could satisfy his wants, 
but where he was now pierced as with arrows, and healed 
as with the 4 balm of Gilead.' The idle worldling, who 
seldom made an effort to be interested in anything, shook 
off his supineness at least to go and hear what the stranger 
had to say. The vicious and depraved strove for a place 
where they might hear the love of God toward sinners, 
the greatness and preciousness of the work of His Son 
Jesus, and the mighty help of the Holy Ghost in the 
hearts of all who would live a holy life, spoken of with a 
tenderness and an earnestness befitting themes so dear to 
them in their abject condition. The broken-hearted 
rejoiced in the sympathetic feeling of a teacher who 
knew all their sorrow. The mixed mass of hearers filled 
the pews, choked the aisles, swarmed into every nook 
and corner, hung upon the rails of the organ loft, climbed 
upon the leads of the church. As many had to turn 
away disappointed as had gained admission. And the 
preacher's words were more than a pleasant sound, much 
enjoyed while it lasted, and soon forgotten when it ceased ; 



G2 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



they struck into heart and conscience, turning the wicked 
man from his wickedness, that he might save his soul 
alive, and awakening the generous emotions of all. 

Whitefield began with his congregations as he con- 
tinued and ended with them. He made a practical, bene- 
volent use of them ; for he felt that our profession of 
love to God is but a mockery, unless it be connected 
with love to one another, and 4 love which is not in 
word, but in deed and in truth.' Xothing was further 
from his mind than to seek o;ily or chiefly the excite- 
ment and flattery of preaching to large congregations ; 
and the same sense of devotion to the highest end of 
life, which made him forget himself, and think only of 
the glory of God, made him strive to teach the people a 
benevolence as cheerful and a self-denial as thorough as 
his own. He did not preach to please his hearers ; and 
they must not come to be pleased. They must come to 
know their duty, as well as their privilege, in the gospel ; 
and so, twice or thrice every week, he appealed to them 
on behalf of the prisoners in Xewgate, and made collec- 
tions. Howard had not yet begun his holy work in our 
gaols ; but the temporal and spiritual wants of prisoners 
never failed to move the sympathy of Whitefield and 
of all the early Methodists. The first band of Methodists 
had a special fund for the prisoners in Oxford gaol, and 
when Whiter! eld left the University he had the disposing 
of it, and the chief charge of the prisoners. In London 
and in Gloucester he was a regular visitor at Xewgate ; 
and in Bristol he pursued the same charitable plan. 1 

1 Since writing this paragraph I hare observed the following sentences in 
Mr. Foster's ' Life and Adventures of Oliver Goldsmith/ p. 359, viz. 
' There had been, in light amusing fiction, no such scene as that where Dr. 
Primrose, surrounded by the mocking felons of the gaol into which his 
villanous creditor had thrown him, finds in even those wretched outcasts 
a common nature to appeal to, minds to instruct, sympathies to bring back 
to virtue, souls to restore and save. "In less than a fortnight I had formed 
them into something social and humane." Into how many heaits may this 



FAKE WELL TO BRISTOL. 



Go 



The same comprehensive charity was displayed towards 
the poor of Georgia, whose faces he had not yet seen. 
During his stay at Bristol he paid a visit to Bath, where 
his preaching produced as deep an impression as in the 
sister citv. and where some rich ladies gave him more 
than a hundred and sixty pounds for the poor of his 
future flock. 

If parting from the simple peasants of Stonehouse was 
hard, it could not be easy to tear himself away from 
Bristol, which offered him both ample means and affec- 
tionate regard, if he would continue to minister in its 
churches. For the money he cared nothing ; for love he 
cared everything. He was a foremost disciple in the 
school of Him who has recently been called the £ Author 
of the Enthusiasm of Humanity.'" 1 But happily the "en- 
thusiasm ' which he felt could not be confined to one 
place, and dear as Bristol had made itself, it must be left. 
•June 21.' he say-. -I took my last farewell of Bristol. 
But when I came to tell them it might be that they 
would " see my face no more." high and low. young and 

have planted a desire which had as yet been no man's care! Not vet had 
Howard turned his thoughts to the prison, Romilly was but a boy of nine 
years old. and Elizabeth Fry had not been born.' True: but for thirty 
years before dear Dr. Primrose was born, the Methodist?, with their bene- 
volent leaders, Whitefield and the Wesleys, for en samples, had cherished 
tenderly and devoutly the ' desire ' which Mr. Forster says was 1 no mans 
care.' The honour of entering the gaol of the last century, which Mr. 
Forster so justly says was ' the gallows' portal ' and • crime's high school," is 
due to one of .the most obscure of the Oxford Methodists. Mr. Morgan, the 
son of an Irish gentleman : and had not death carried him off in his youth, he 
might have anticipated Howard's labours in their wide extent, as he cer- 
tainly did in their Christian spirit. 

Prison philanthropy, however, can be traced further back than the day of 
Oliver Goldsmith, or the rise of the Methodists. Sixty years before the 
' Holy Club ' was formed, a hundred before the ' Vicar of Wakefield' was 
published, an Oxford student, by name Joseph Alleine. an intimate friend 
of John Wesley, the grandfather of the Methodist, used to visit the pri- 
soners in Oxford county gaol. His last biographer, Charles Stanford, says 
that he was "the first friend they were ever known to have had." 

1 Ecce Homo. 



G4 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



old, burst into such a flood of tears as I have never seen 
before : drops fell from their eyes like rain, or rather 
gushed out like water. Multitudes, after sermon, fol- 
lowed me home weeping ; and the next day I was em- 
ployed from seven in the morning till midnight, in talking 
and giving spiritual advice to awakened souls. 

4 About three the next morning, having thrown myself 
on the bed for an hour or two, I set out for Gloucester, 
because I heard that a great company on horseback 
and in coaches intended to see me out of town. Some, 
finding themselves disappointed, followed me thither, 
where I staid a few days, and preached to a very crowded 
auditory. Then I went on to Oxford, where we had, as 
it were, a general rendezvous of the Methodists ; and, 
finding their interests flourishing, and being impatient to 
go abroad, I hastened away, after taking a most affec- 
tionate leave ' (this was the third leave-taking of his friends 
at Oxford, the second of his friends at Bristol and Glou- 
cester), 4 and came to London about the end of August.' 

This popularity inevitably brought trouble. His doc- 
trine was not approved of by all ; and thus, under the 
pressure of aspersions from enemies and entreaties from 
friends, he was induced to publish his sermon on ' Ee- 
generation. 5 It contains a statement of the ordinary 
evangelical views upon that subject, given in very or- 
dinary language ; but two sentences would be likely to 
catch the eye of any one who might read the sermon 
with a previous understanding of the preacher's views. 
Once he makes a side hit at metaphorical interpreters : 
4 It will be well if they do not interpret themselves out 
of their salvation.' In another sentence he states a view 
which he and his contemporary Methodist friends — to 
their honour be it said — always carried into practice, as 
well as urged in their preaching ; he says, 4 The sum of 
the matter is this ; Christianity includes morality, as grace 
does reason.' Elsewhere he defines true religion in these 



MORALITY AND RELIGION. 



65 



strikingly noble words — ; A universal morality founded 
upon the love of God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.' 
* The only Methodism,' he exclaims, £ I desire to know 
is a holy method of dvino- to ourselves, and of living to 
God/ 

The prophets themselves, to whom, in ancient time, 
was committed, anions: other exalted duties, the task of 
guarding the morality of the Hebrew nation, of protesting 
against every use of the ceremonial law and of the temple 
service which would degrade religion into a superstition ; 
and the apostles, who never failed to link the plainest 
and humblest of duties with the loftiest doctrines they 
taught, were not more jealous that religion and morality 
should not be divorced from each other, than were TThite- 
field and the Weslevs. The ground of the moderns was 
taken up clearly and boldly by Whitefield in his sermon 
just referred to, and throughout his whole life was never 
for a moment forsaken. This is doubtless one main 
reason why the great religious movement of the last cen- 
tury has deepened and widened to the present day, and 
gives promise of continued extension. The great strength 
of it lay, not in the advocacy of any peculiar doctrine, 
but in the union of doctrine and precept, of privilege 
and responsibility. It was a true expression of the 
apostle's argument to the church at Eome — the doctrine 
of grace united with purity of life. 8 Shall we continue 
in sin that grace may abound ? God forbid. How shall 
we, that are dead to sin, live any longer therein ? ' So 
far from the movement's resting alone or principally upon 
a particular doctrine, Whitefield and Wesley were di- 
vided upon doctrine, the one holding with Arnimius, the 
other with Calvin ; yet their work, even after the rupture 
between them, was not hindered or destroyed, but car- 
ried forward with as much vigour, and as much to the 
profit of mankind, as ever. Some would have morality 
without religion, but these men proclaimed eve ly where, 

F 



66 LIFE AND TKAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



that religion is the root of morality ; that every man 
needs the renewing power of the Spirit of God in his 
heart ; and that the 6 fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, 
peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meek- 
ness, temperance.' 1 

Whether friends and enemies did Whitefield a service 
by forcing him to publish, has been much questioned ; 
indeed, nearly every one has condemned the step. Frank- 
lin thought that he did himself an abiding injustice, 
because his power lay not in the pen, but in the tongue ; 
and that it would have been better for his reputation, 
had he allowed only the reports of his genius and of his 
triumphs to be kept as his memorial for succeeding 
generations. As to the sermons, perhaps Franklin was 
right ; but Whitefield would have been no more than an 
idle name, had we been left without some of his writings, 
without his journal and some of his letters. I say some, 
because a great number of his published letters never 
could be of any service, excepting to the persons who 
received them. But with Whitefield it was no consi- 
deration what might be thought of his powers. During 
his life' he never gave a moment to recollect whether he 
had any literary reputation or not ; and least of all did 
he hunger after posthumous fame. He published, in the 
first instance, because he wanted to clear himself from 
aspersions, and his friends wished to have his sermons ; 
and, in the second instance, because he found that his 

1 The one great corruption to which all religion is exposed is its separa- 
tion from morality. The very strength of the religious motive has a tendency 
to exclude or disparage all other tendencies of the human mind, even the 
noblest and best. It is against this corruption that the prophetic order from 
first to last constantly protested. Even its mere outward appearance and 
organisation bore witness to the greatness of the opposite truth — the in- 
separable union of morality with religion. Alone of all the high offices of 
the Jewish Church, the prophets were called by no outward form of con^ 
secration, and were selected from no special tribe or family. But the most 
effective witness to this great doctrine was borne by their actual teaching.' 
— Stanley's ' Lectures on the Jewish Church/ p. 451. 



HIS PRINTED SERMONS. 



67 



sermons were often as useful when read, as when heard. 
Many weeping eyes, in England, in Scotland, in America, 
in the hut of the emigrant, in the cottage of the peasant, 
in the hall of the nobleman, once eagerly searched for 
consolation and hope, and found them, in those pages 
which no one now cares to read, excepting curious 
orators, who want to find out the secret of Whitefield's 
power, and sound evangelicals, who think that old 
theology is the safest and best. The two old volumes 
have a touching interest when their history is remem- 
bered. They speak of broken-hearted penitents and of 
rejoicing believers ; and this, despite their feeble thought 
and unpolished language, lends them an air of sanctity. 
Their very feebleness becomes their wonder. As the 
rod with which Moses divided the Red Sea, or the sling 
from which David hurled the 6 smooth stone ' against 
Goliath's head, would be an object of interest, did we 
possess it, its very inefficiency aiding us to the better esti- 
mate of that power which made it so effectual, so these 
sermons give us, by their tameness, a clearer conception of 
the flaming zeal and yearning love that must have been 
necessary to make them persuasive, convincing, con- 
quering, and of that power of the Holy Ghost which 
through them could move nations. It would be a pro- 
found satisfaction to the humble spirit of their author to 
know that men regard them as 4 weak things ; ' for, re- 
membering how they once prevailed over irreligion and 
vice, and over cultivated, thoughtful minds, he would 
simply say, 4 Then hath God chosen the weak things of 
the world to confound the mighty.' 

The sermons which had aroused Bristol and Bath were 
next preached in London, whither Whitefield went about 
the end of August. If his life in Bristol had been busy 
and excited enough, what shall be said of the storm of 
religious excitement that arose around him in the metro- 

p 2 



68 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



polis ? His intention was to remain in perfect retirement, 
and devote himself, until the time of his departure for 
Georgia, to his much loved employment of reading and 
praying over the word of God upon his knees ; but his 
soul had not long tasted the sweetness of this repose 
when invitations to preach poured in amain. The 
stewards and members of the religious societies (of 
which I shall presently have occasion to speak more 
particularly) were remarkably fond of hearing him ; and 
for a good reason — he attracted large congregations, and 
got large collections. Friendly clergymen — only too soon 
to forget their present admiration — wanted help in their 
services, and sought it from this willing worker. The 
largest churches could not hold the people ; thousands 
went away for want of room. Then the churchwardens 
and managers of the charity schools, perceiving the effect 
of his preaching, that is to say, its money-effect, thought 
that they must have a share of the harvest, and began to 
plead with him for the benefit of the children. For 
three months the stream of people flowed steadily to- 
wards any church in which he might be ministering ; 
and sometimes constables had to be placed, both inside 
and outside the building, to preserve order. Mne times 
a week did Whitefiekl engage in his delightful work of 
preaching. On Sunday morning it was his habit to rise 
very early, and during the day to walk many miles 
between the various churches at which he was expected. 
These early sacraments, which called him out before 
daybreak, 4 were,' he says, 4 exceeding awful. At Cripple- 
gate, St. Anne's, and Foster Lane, how often have we 
seen Jesus Christ crucified, and evidently set forth before 
us ! On Sunday mornings, long before day, you might 
see streets filled with people going to church, with their 
lanthorns in their hands, and hear them conversing about 
the things of God.' The ordinary congregations, too, 
which were not composed of such persons as these devout 



EXCITEMENT IN LONDON. 



G9 



communicants, but of all kinds, heard the word 'like 
people hearing for eternity.' 

Such popularity quite disturbed the usual order of 
things. On sacramental occasions fresh elements had 
sometimes to be consecrated twice or thrice. The 
stewards had larger offerings than they could con- 
veniently carry to the table, their collection boxes or 
bags not having been made for such an exceptional time. 
A newsagent, who heard of what was doing in the 
religious world, thought that he was as much entitled to 
turn an honest penny as the stewards ; and one Monday 
morning, when Whitefield was quietly taking breakfast 
with a friend at the Tower, his eye caught sight in the 
newspaper of a paragraph to the effect, that there was a 
young gentleman going volunteer to Georgia ; that he 
had preached at St. Swithin's, and collected eight pounds, 
instead of ten shillings— three pounds of which were in 
halfpence (which was all quite true) ; and that he was to 
preach next Wednesday before the societies at their 
general quarterly meeting. The paragraph chagrined 
Whitefield very much. He was not yet inured to the 
annoyances of public life, and he requested the printer 
not to put him in his paper again ; but his only comfort 
was the printer's saucy answer, ' that he was paid for 
doing it, and that he would not lose two shillings for 
anybody,' and a full church — Bow Church it was — on 
the following Wednesday. 

As popularity and usefulness increased, opposition in- 
creased proportionally. The ground which it took was 
extraordinary, it being actually urged that these crowds 
which followed Whitefield interfered with the attendance 
at church of regular parishioners ; further, that the pews 
were spoiled ; next, that Whitefield was a spiritual pick- 
pocket ; and, finally, that he made use of a charm to get 
the people's money, which was perfectly true. And the 
clergy — some of them, at least— who had listened and 



70 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



admired, grew angry and spiteful. The charmer, it was 
rumoured, would be silenced by the bishop upon the 
complaint of the clergy ; the pickpocket would be hin- 
dered from plying his thievish arts. 

But Whitefield was not a man to tremble under a 
threat, or grow pale at a rumour. He had a native 
pugnacity, not yet humbled and subdued ; and quickly did 
he show his enemies that he could fight as well as preach 
and pray, and that silencing him would be a difficult 
thing. He at once waited upon the bishop, and asked 
whether any complaint had been lodged against him ; 
the bishop answered that there was none. He asked his 
lordship whether any objection could be made to his 
doctrine ; and the bishop replied, 4 No : for I know a 
clergyman who has heard you preach a plain scriptural 
sermon.' Whitefield then asked his lordship whether he 
would grant him a licence ; and the answer was, 4 You 
need none, since you are going to Georgia.' 4 Then,' 
said Whitefield, 4 you would not forbid me ? ' The 
bishop gave a satisfactory answer, and Whitefield took 
his leave. 

But what the bishop chose not to do in his diocese, 
individual clergymen, using their liberty to dispose of 
their pulpits in their own way, chose to do in their own 
churches ; and two of them sent for him to tell him, that 
they would not let him preach in their pulpits any more, 
unless he renounced that part of the preface of his sermon 
on regeneration, wherein he wished that his 4 brethren 
would oftener entertain their auditories with discourses 
upon the new birth.' This he had no freedom to do, 
and so they continued to oppose him. 

The obnoxious sentence, for whatever reason it may 
have been removed, does not appear in the sermon as 
printed after Whitefi eld's death. It is probable that, as 
his early inclination to a slight censoriousness gave place 
to a wide charity towards the end of his life, and his 



THE CLERGY AND THE DISSENTERS. 



71 



favourite doctrine had gained considerable acceptance 
and influence, he felt that his wish could no longer be 
appropriately entertained, and that its continuance in his 
sermon would be to preserve a needless record of an 
early struggle. 

Whitefield had, in part, broken with his profession. 
Some of them he had censured ; and they had replied 
by shutting their churches against him. Others attempted 
to crush him by denouncing him for fraternising with 
Dissenters ; one clergyman called him 4 a pragmatical 
rascal,' and 4 vehemently inveighed against him and the 
whole body of Dissenters together.' His intimacy with 
Dissenters, it is true, was great, and lasted throughout 
the whole of his life. The grounds of it were honour- 
able to both parties concerned. The piety and zeal of 
the preacher drew the pious of other denominations to 
hear him ; and in their houses, to which they kindly 
invited him, and he as kindly went, they assured him, 
4 that if the doctrine of the new birth and justification by 
faith were powerfully preached in the Church, there 
would be but few Dissenters in England.' Whitefield 
found their conversation 4 savoury,' and thinking that his 
practice of visiting and associating with them was agree- 
able to Scripture, he judged that 4 the best way to bring 
them over was not by bigotry and railing, but modera- 
tion and love, and undissembled holiness of life.' 

True hearts get all the nearer when false ones show 
their baseness. 4 A sweet knot of religious intimates,' as 
he calls them, gathered around him ; and an hour every 
evening was set apart by them for intercession for their 
work and their friends. 4 1 was their mouth unto God,' 
he says ; 4 and He only knows what enlargement I felt in 
that divine employ. Once we spent a whole night in 
prayer and praise ; and many a time at midnight, and at 
one in the morning, after I have been wearied almost to 
death in preaching, writing, and conversation, and going 



72 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 



from place to place, God imparted new life to my soul, 
and the sweetness of this exercise made me compose my 
sermon upon " Intercession." ' 

The end of these London labours came at Christmas, 
1737. Anxious to get to his Georgian charge, and an 
opportunity offering by a transport ship, which was about 
to sail with a number of soldiers, he determined at once 
to start. His purpose wounded the hearts of thousands ; 
prayers were offered for him ; the people would embrace 
him in the church ; wishful looks would follow him as he 
went home. A solemn, weeping sacrament celebrated 
the final parting. 

He left the charity schools one thousand pounds richer 
by his labours, and he carried more than three hundred 
pounds with him for the poor of Georgia. He ever, 
from the first voyage to the thirteenth, crossed the 
Atlantic, guarded by the prayers of thousands, and 
freighted with their benevolent gift-. 

On December 28, Whitefield left London, and, on the 
30th, went on board the 4 \Yhitaker,' at Purneet. His 
labours now were divided between the ship and the shore, 
the former containing the companions of his voyage, the 
latter having the presence of friends, who followed him 
from point to point, till he got out to sea, and who were 
always ready to engage him in some religious duties. 
Great kindness and prudence marked his conduct among 
the men of the ship from the first day he went on board. 
He attended them in sickness, taught them, and cate- 
chised them, To the officers, both naval and military, 
he showed marked deference, and allowed not his zeal to 
carry him into any unwise attempts to force religion upon 
their attention. Some brisk gales caught the ship in her 
passage down the channel, which gave him opportunities 
of showing kindness to the sea-sick soldiers and their 
families, and of speaking weighty words concerning death 
and the judgment to those who came to prayers. The 



SAILS FOE GEORGIA. 



73 



quietness of his first Sunday was a new experience to him, 
and made him not only remember the days when he 
4 led the joyful sacred throng.' but write in his journal, 
'He is unworthy the name of a Christian who is not 
as willing to hide himself when God commands, as to act 
in a public capacity.' Xor was he insensible to the fresh 
scenes which nature displayed before his eye ; to the 
calmness of the sea. which looked like Sabbath repose ; to 
the clear sky. bespangled with stars, or illumined by the 
moon, which suggested thoughts of His majesty who 
4 stretched the heavens abroad.' His entire sincerity in 
his work was beautifully exhibited in his new kind of 
life. He was as attentive to teach a few soldiers or a 
few women the catechism, as he had been zealous for the 
crowds of London. At night he would walk on the 
deck that he might have an opportunity of speaking 
quietly to some officers whom he wanted to gain over to 
the service of God. or go down into the steerage where 
the sailors were congregated, that he might be as one of 
them. He soon became a favourite. The captain of the 
ship gave him the free use of his cabin, the military 
captain was friendly, and so were the rest of the officers. 
At length, prayers were read daily in the great cabin ; 
and, at the request of the captain, AThitefield preached to 
the 4 gentlemen.' Until they left Deal on January 30, 
he also regularly preached on shore in a house ; and the 
congregations became so large that the preaching room 
had to be propped up. It seems that 4 running ' and 
buying 4 run goods ' was 4 a sin that did most easily beset 
the Deal people ' of that day ; and though \Thitefield took 
care to show them 4 the absolute unlawfulness ' of their 
deeds, yet they still waited on his word. 

The same morning that he sailed from Deal, John 
Wesley arrived there from Georgia. On reaching shore 
Wesley learned that his friend was in a vessel in the 
offing, bound for Georgia. From some cause or other, 



7-4 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE W1I1TEFIELD. 



perhaps because lie had miserably failed at Savannah, 
and thought that no one else could do any good, Wesley 
deemed it necessary to take some steps to know whether 
Whitefield ought to continue his voyage. His method of 
deciding the difficulty was by sortilege, a practice which 
he long continued, but one which Whitefield never fol- 
lowed. 1 He even resorted to it in the dispute between 
himself and Whitefield on the subjects of election and 
free-grace. In a letter addressed to Wesley, in reply 
to Wesley's sermon on ' free-grace,' Whitefield said about 
the Deal lot, 4 The morning I sailed from Deal for 
Gibraltar you arrived from Georgia. Instead of giving 
me an opportunity to converse with you, though the ship 
was not far off the shore, you drew a lot, and imme- 
diately set forwards to London. You left a letter behind 
you, in which were words to this effect : — " When I saw 
God, by the wind which was carrying you out brought 
me in, I asked counsel of God. His answer you have 
inclosed." This was a piece of paper, in which were 
written these words, " Let him return to London." 

4 When I received this, I was somewhat surprised. 
Here was a good man telling me he had cast a lot, and 
that God would have me return to London. On the other 

1 The Moravians were much addicted to the use of sortilegium. In ' an 
extract of the constitution of the church of the Moravian Brethren at 
Hernhuth, laid before the theological order of Wirtemberg in the year 
1733/ quoted by Wesley in his journal, it is said — 'They have a peculiar 
esteem for lots, and accordingly use them both in public and private, to 
decide points of importance when the reasons brought on each side appear 
to be of equal weight. And they believe this to be then the only way of 
wholly setting aside their own will, of acquitting themselves of all blame, 
and clearly knowing what is the will of God.' It is probable, as Southey t 
suggests, that Wesley took to the practice through the example of th6 
Moravians, of whom he had seen much during his voyage to Georgia and 
stay there. 

Whitefield's opinion was expressed in a public letter nearly three years 
after his first departure for Georgia. ' I am no friend,' he says, ' to casting 
lots ; but I believe, on extraordinary occasions, when things can be deter- 
mined in no other way, God, if appealed to and waited on by prayer and 
fasting, will answer by lot now as well as formerly.' 



CASTING LOTS. 



hand, I knew that my call was to Georgia, and that I 
had taken leave of London, and could not justly go from 
the soldiers who were committed to my charge. I betook 
myself with a friend to prayer. That passage in the first 
book of Kings, chapter xiii., was powerfully impressed 
upon my soul, where we are told, " That the prophet was 
slain by a lion, that was tempted to go back (contrary to 
God's express order) upon another prophet's telling him 
God would have him do so." I wrote you word, that I 
could not return to London. We sailed immediately. 
Some months after I received a letter from you at 
Georgia, wherein you wrote words to this effect : 
" Though God never before gave me a wrong lot, yet, 
perhaps, He suffered me to have such a lot at that time, 
to try what was in your heart." I should never have 
published this private transaction to the world, did not 
the glory of God call me to it.' 

It was well, for the sake of every one, and for the sake 
of religion, that Whitefield was not so superstitious as his 
friend, and that he was not turned from a sober purpose 
by a ridiculous chance. His return to London would 
have demanded public explanation, and what could he 
have said but this : - John Wesley drew a lot, on which 
were these words — " Let him return to London ;" and so 
I am here ' ? Then all the sensible part of his congrega- 
tions would either have lost confidence in him, or have 
become as foolish as himself; and enemies, who were 
rapidly multiplying, would have assailed him with irre- 
sistible force. All his prayers, resolutions, tears, and 
ponderings would have been covered with shame and 
confusion, and he could never have become a leader, since 
men will follow only the decided and consistent. Wesley 
himself, notwithstanding his blind faith in lots, would not 
have been turned from his purpose by a dozen of them 
drawn by a friend, had he been so far and so openly 
committed as was Whitefield. One short answer would 



76 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEF1ELD. 

have cut through the difficulty — ' My friend may draw 
lots for himself, but not for me ; at this rate, everybody 
will be trying to divine my duty, and the contradictory 
answers will leave me in hopeless embarrassment.' 

All went pleasantly with the 4 Whitaker ' and her pas- 
sengers until the Bay of Biscay was reached. Whitefleld's 
entry in his journal for Tuesday, February 14, gives a good 
picture of the troubles and dangers to which he exposed 
himself on many occasions by his American voyages. It 
shows also the brotherly kindness which ever filled his 
heart : — 6 May I never forget,' he says, ' this day's mercies, 
since the Lord was pleased to deal so lovingly with me ! 
About twelve at night a fresh gale arose, which increased 
so very much by four in the morning, that the waves 
raged horribly indeed, and broke in like a great river on 
many of the poor soldiers, who lay near the main hatch- 
way. Friend H. and I knew nothing of it, but per- 
ceived ourselves restless, and could not sleep at all ; he 
complained of a grievous headache. I arose and called 
upon God for myself and those that sailed with me, absent 
friends, and all mankind. After this I went on deck ; 
but surely a more noble, awful sight my eyes never yet 
beheld ; for the waves rose more than mountain high, and 
sometimes came on the quarter-deck. I endeavoured all 
the while to magnify God for thus making His power to 
be known ; and then, creeping on my knees (for I knew 
not how to go otherwise), I followed my friend H. 
between decks, and sung psalms, and comforted the poor 
wet people. After this I read prayers in the great cabin ; 
but we were obliged to sit all the while. Then, thinking 
I should be capable of doing nothing, I laid myself across 
the chair, reading ; but God was so good so to assist me 
by His Spirit that, though things were tumbling, the ship 
rocking, and persons falling down unable to stand, and 
sick about me, yet I never was more cheerful in my life, 
and was enabled, though in the midst of company, to 



WRITING A SERMON IN A STORM. 



77 



finish a sermon before I went to bed, which I had begun 
a few days before ! So greatly was God's strength magni- 
fied in my weakness ! " Praise the Lord, my soul, and 
all that is within me praise His holy Name." ' 

So few are the references, in Whiteneld's journal or 
letters, to the manners of the people among whom he 
stayed, or to the scenery through which he passed in his 
travels, that I am glad to extract any that he made, as a 
proof that his was not a dull soul without delight in nature, 
without sensitiveness to answer to the soft sweetness of 
a southern sky, or awe to respond to the wildness and 
majesty of a storm. It may be fairly doubted whether 
he could have been the orator he was, had he lacked 
these qualities ; and the reason why such slight evidence 
of their existence in him is to be found, was his attention 
to his high duties as an ambassador for Christ. While 
his earlier journals are brightened here and there with a 
descriptive touch, his later and revised journal is almost 
entirely without a reference to anything but his spiritual 
work. The following account of his feelings as he ap- 
proached Gibraltar is given in his first journal, but not in 
his revised one : ' Saturday, February 18. Though the 
weather was exceedingly pleasant all the day, yet it grew 
more and more pleasant in the evening, and our ship sailed 
at the rate of nine miles an hour, and as steady as though 
Ave were sitting on shore. The night wsls exceeding clear, 
and the moon and stars appeared in their greatest lustre ; 
so that, not having patience to stay below, I w r ent upon 
deck with friend H., and praised God for his wonderful 
lovingkindness in singing psalms, and gave thanks for 
the blessings, and asked pardon for the offences, of the 
week, and then had a long intercession. 

4 It is worth coming from England to see what we have 
beheld this day. 

6 Sunday, February 19. Slept better to-night than I 
have a long while ; blessed be the Keeper of Israel ! 



78 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

Eead prayers in the great cabin ; was enlarged in ex- 
pounding both the lessons to the soldiers ; and had prayers, 
and preached one of the sermons God enabled me to make 
since I came on board, on open deck in the afternoon. 
All the gentlemen attended ; benches were laid for the 
people ; and the ship sailed smoothly, and the weather 
was finer than I can express, so that I know not where 
I have performed the service more comfortably. And, 
indeed, I have been so delighted these two days with our 
pleasant sailing and the promontories all around us, that 
I could not avoid thanking God for calling me abroad, 
and stirring up all to praise Him, 44 who by his strength 
setteth fast the mountains, and is girded about with 
power." ' 

On February 20, the 4 Whitaker ' reached Gibraltar. 
Whitefield received marked kindness from the governor, 
General Sabine, a man of steadfast consistency, who, 
during the time of his governorship, had never been 
absent from public worship, except through sickness, and 
who 4 was very moderate towards the Dissenters.' He 
gave Whitefield a general invitation to dine with him 
every day. Kindness was also shown by one Major 
Sinclair (a man whom Whitefield had never seen), 4 who 
provided a convenient lodging at merchant B.'s, and de- 
sired Whitefield to go on shore.' That was on the fourth 
day after arriving at Gibraltar ; and it suggests that the 
great preacher must still have carried the charm which 
had so readily extracted money from the pockets of 
Londoners. But, what was better than all temporal 
comfort, the religious life of Gibraltar had in it much 
that was pleasing and gratifying ; there was devoutness 
among a number of the soldiers ; there was respect for 
the convictions of people who were not members of the 
Established Church of England ; there was goodwill be- 
tween two ministers of different denominations. Doubt- 
less the second and third parts of the blessedness of the 



THE CHURCH IN EPITOME. 



79 



place were strange things to excite the congratulations of 
Christians, yet they were good grounds for praise, and 
will continue to be so while they are so rare. 

Gibraltar, Whitefield thought, was 4 the world in epi- 
tome ; ' he might have added, the Church too ; for Dis- 
senters and Churchmen, ' New Lights ' and ' Dark 
Lanthorns,' Jews, and Eoman Catholics were on the rock. 
The ' New Lights ' were an interesting company of soldiers, 
gathered into a society by one Sergeant B., who for 
twelve years had been their leader. Their meetings were 
first held in 6 dens and mountains and caves of the rocks,' 
but afterwards, on applying for leave to build a little 
sanctuary of their own, the minister of the church and 
the governor wisely and generously gave them the free 
use of the church. This offer they gladly accepted ; and 
it was their custom to meet three times a day, to read, 
and pray, and sing psalms. Their Nonconformity, in a 
place where so much liberality on religious subjects and 
religious practices obtained, seems strange ; and most 
likely it was based on the common ground of the Non- 
conformity of those days — a desire for freer and more 
social worship than the forms of the Church will admit. 
Going early to church one morning to expound, White- 
field was highly pleased to see several soldiers kneeling 
in different parts of the building, engaged in private 
devotion ; as early as two o'clock in the morning some 
would retire for that purpose. 

The ' Dark Lanthorns ' were some ' serious Christians ' 
of the Scotch Church. Whitefield did not think it 
' agreeable' to visit them ; but sent them, as well as the 
other society, 'some proper books.' He talked with 
several of them privately, and urged a union between the 
two societies. 

A few days sufficed to make Whitefield as popular 
with the soldiers as he had been with the sailors, with 
the townspeople as he was with the garrison. Officers 



80 LIFE AND TKAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

and soldiers crowded the church when he preached ; and 
at the governor's table, where he had dreaded being 
treated with more than sober hospitality, 6 all the officers 
behaved in such a decent, innocent manner' that they 
pleased him very much. They were studious to oblige 
him, and solicitous for him to stay ; but his face was set 
to go to Georgia. Many of the inhabitants pressed him 
to stay with them, and for his sake treated the friends 
who journeyed with him with marked kindness. 

None of this popularity was won at the expense of 
fidelity. While all were crowding to hear him, he 
eagerly embraced the opportunity of reproving them for 
the sin of drunkenness, the curse of the place, and for 
profane swearing. His presence and labours created so 
much excitement that even the chief of the Jews came 
to hear him on the latter subject. Not knowing this, 
Whitefield next day attended the synagogue, and was 
astonished when the presiding elder came to him, and 
conducted him to a chief seat, as a mark of honour for 
his having preached so well, according to Jewish ideas, 
against the sin of profaning the Divine name. The Eoman 
Catholic Church was also visited ; but everything there 
was contrary to the simplicity which the plain Methodist 
loved. 

The stay at Gibraltar lasted thirteen days, and on the 
last day of it many came to Whitefield, weeping, to tell 
him what God had done for their souls, to ask for his 
prayers, and to promise him theirs in return. Others sent 
him presents of cake, wine, figs, e^gs, and other neces- 
saries for his voyage. Two hundred soldiers, women, 
officers, and others, stood on the beach to see him go on 
board, and wish him 4 good luck in the name of the 
Lord.' 

The results of his work he thus summed up : 4 Many 
that were quite stark blind have received their sight; 
many that had fallen back have repented, and turned 



LIFE AT SEA. 



81 



unto the Lord again ; many that were ashamed to own 
Christ openly have waxen bold ; and many that were 
saints have had their hearts filled with joy unspeakable 
and full of glory.' 

Once more out at sea, he renewed his former efforts 
for the good of the soldiers who sailed with him ; public 
services were zealously promoted, and personal visitation 
added to them, as a means whereby the faith of each one 
might be known. 

Mr. Habersham, a friend of Whitefield, who accom= 
panied him, instructed the soldiers in the elements of 
learning, and formed a school for the benefit of their 
children. 

Whitefi eld's journal contains the following entry for 
Thursday, March 16 : — ' Preached this afternoon my ser- 
mon against swearing, at which several of the soldiers 
wept. Blessed be God that sin is much abated amongst 
us ; and I think a visible alteration may be perceived 
through the whole ship. " Not unto me, not unto me, 
Lord, but unto thy name, be the glory ! '" It was at the 
close of one of those services, perhaps the one just 
referred to, that Captain Mackay asked the soldiers to 
stop, 6 whilst he informed them that, to his great shame, 
he had been a notorious swearer himself ; but, by the 
instrumentality of that gentleman, pointing to Mr. White- 
field, he had now left it off, and exhorted them, for 
Christ's sake, that they would go and do likewise.' The 
women began to remark, 4 What a change in our cap- 
tain ! ' and the soldiers as a body were almost reformed. 
This entry is against March 18 4 The weather being 
very fair, and the sea calm, I went with Captain W. on 
board the " Lightfoot," dined with the gentlemen belong- 
ing to the ship, and Colonel Cochran, who came on board 
to pay them a visit. Married a couple, and dispersed 
bibles, testaments, and soldiers' monitors, amongst the 
men ; exchanged some books for some cards ; preached a 

G 



82 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



sermon against drunkenness, which I finished yesterday ; 
and returned in the evening, much pleased with seeing 
the porpoises roll about the great deep. 44 Lord, how 
marvellous are thy works." ' Monday, March 27, has a 
mournful story : 4 Last night, God was pleased to take 
away a black boy of Captain Whiting's, after he had been 
ill of a violent fever for some days. He was never bap- 
tized ;' — poor lad, he was black, and the colour of his skin 
would account for his never having partaken of the benefits 
of this rite of the Church ; — 4 but I had a commission from 
his master, who seemed much affected at his death, to 
instruct and baptize him, if it had pleased the Most High 
that he should recover ; but God saw fit to order it other- 
wise. His holy will be done. About ten in the morning 
he was wrapped up in a hammock, and thrown into the 
sea. I could not read the office over him, being unbap- 
tized ; but Captain W. ordered the drum to beat, and I 
exhorted all the soldiers and sailors 44 to remember their 
Creator in the days of their youth," and to prepare for 
that time when 44 the sea should give up its dead, and all 
nations be called together to appear before the Son of 
God." Oh that they may lay to heart what has been 
said, and practically consider their latter end.' While to 
that prayer none can refuse an amen, it would not have 
been strange had some of the men gone away to consider 
what the black boy had done amiss, that he should be 
buried like a beast. 

So the voyage was continued, the only diversity to the 
kind of life just sketched being the presence of fever, 
which carried off two of the worst men on board, and 
struck Whitefield down for several days. To a friend he 
writes — 4 How goes time ? I can scarce tell ; for I have 
been some time past, as one would think, launching into 
eternity. God has been pleased to visit me with a vio- 
lent fever, which He, notwithstanding, so sweetened by 
divine consolations, that I was enabled to rejoice and sing 



ARRIVAL AT SAVANNAH- 83 

in the midst of it. Indeed, I had many violent conflicts 
with the powers of darkness, who did all they could to 
disturb and distract me ; but Jesus Christ prayed for 
me ; and though I was once reduced to the last ex- 
tremity, and all supernatural assistance seemed to be sus- 
pended for awhile, and Satan, as it were, had dominion 
over me, yet God suffered not my faith to fail ; but came 
in at length to my aid, rebuked the tempter, and from 
that moment I grew better, Surely God is preparing me 
for something extraordinary ; for He has now sent me 
such extraordinary conflicts and comforts as I never 
before experienced. I was, as I thought, on the brink 
of eternity. I had heaven within me; I thought of 
nothing in this world ; I earnestly desired to be dissolved 
and go to Christ ; but God was pleased to order it other- 
wise, and I am resigned, though I can scarce be recon- 
ciled to come back again into this vale of misery. ... I 
would write more, but my strength faileth me. We 
hope to be at Savannah on Monday.' 

Whitefield's farewell sermon to the soldiers was 
preached on May 6, and caused much weeping. On the 
evening of the following day he reached Savannah, 
where he was welcomed by Mr. Delamotte, the friend 
whom Wesley left behind him, and some other 6 pious 
souls,' who were rejoiced at his arrival, and joined him 
in thanksgiving and prayer. 



G 2 



84 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



CHAPTER IV. 
1738. 

SIX MONTHS IN GEORGIA SECOND VOYAGE. 

WhiteField, on his arrival at Savannah, knew nothing of 
the circumstances under which his friend Wesley had left 
it. The whole story was related to him, and he wisely 
determined to act as if nothing of an unhappy kind had 
occurred ; he would not even make any record of it in 
his journal. His original journal says, 6 Mr Charles 
Wesley had chiefly acted as secretary to General Ogle- 
thorpe, but he soon also went to England to engage more 
labourers ; and, not long after, his brother, Mr. John 
Wesley, having met with unworthy treatment, both at 
Frederica and Georgia ( Savannah ?) soon followed. All 
this I was apprised of, but think it most prudent not to 
repeat grievances.' In his revised journal he says, ' I 
find there are many divisions amongst the inhabitants ; 
glad shall I be to be an instrument of healing them.' Full 
of loving anxiety to do his work well, and heartily believ- 
ing that the gospel he preached could promote peace and 
harmony, he never gave a thought to the unhappy past, 
in which his friends had, though not without provocation, 
received harsh treatment, but began early and zealously 
to preach and teach. At five o'clock on the morning 
■after his arrival he read public prayers, and expounded 
the second lesson to a congregation of seventeen adults 
and twenty-five children. Such was the exchange for 
crowded churches in England ! 

In the afternoon of the same day, Mr. Causton, Wesley's 



TOMO CHICHI. 



85 



keen enemy, sent word that he and the magistrates would 
wait upon Whitefield, but Whitefield chose to wait upon 
them, a courtesy which could hardly fail to prepare the 
way for kindly intercourse. The interview was marked 
by much 6 civility ' shown to the new chaplain ; and the 
principal part of the conversation was upon the place of 
his settlement. The magistrates were as diplomatic as 
civil ; for it was resolved that the place should be 
Frederica, where a house and tabernacle were to be 
built for him — then they themselves would not run the 
risk of any trouble with him — but that he 4 should serve 
at Savannah, when^ and as long as he pleased.' Thus they 
avoided raising a contention with him, by not arbitrarily 
sending him away from the principal place. They had 
evidently learned the secret of conceding for the sake 
of getting ; but, in the present case, their caution was 
needless. 

The ship-fever had not quite left Whitefield, when, 
with his usual promptness, he arranged the plan of his 
work and made a beginning. His first week in Savannah 
was spent in confinement, and, on the second Sunday, his 
attempt to officiate broke down before he reached the 
second service ; but, on the following Tuesday, he was out 
at his pastoral work, and made a call on Tomo Chichi, 
the Indian king, who had refused to become a Christian, 
on the ground that Christians were such bad wretches. 
The poor emaciated man lay on his blanket, his faithful 
wife fanning him with Indian feathers ; and, as there was 
no one who could speak English, the chaplain could do 
no more than shake hands with him and leave. Four 
days afterwards Whitefield made a second call on the 
chief, and had some conversation with him through his 
nephew, who knew English. He says, 4 1 desired him to 
inquire of his uncle, whether he thought he should die ? 
who answered, 64 He could not tell." I then asked, where 
he thought he should go after death? He replied, to 



86 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



heaven. But, alas! how can a drunkard enter there? 
I then exhorted Tooanoowee (who is a tall, proper youth) 
not to get drunk, telling him he understood English, and 
therefore would be punished the more if he did not 
live better. I then asked him, whether he believed a 
heaven? He answered, "Yes." I then asked, whether 
he believed a hell? and described it by pointing to the 
fire ; he replied, " No." From whence we may easily 
gather, how natural it is to all mankind to believe there 
is a place of happiness, because they wish it may be so ; 
and, on the contrary, how averse they are to a place of 
torment, because they wish it may not be so. But God 
is true and just, and as surely as the righteous shall go 
into everlasting happiness, so the impenitently wicked 
shall go into everlasting punishment.' The severity of 
this kind of address to an untaught heathen is strange in 
one who was so full of the spirit of love ; and though he 
may have thought, that only by terror could the dormant 
conscience be aroused and the heart prepared for the 
gentler message of the work of Jesus Christ for sinners, 
one wonders why he did not say something about love as 
well as wrath. There can be no doubt, however, that 
he had no fitness, though much zeal, for preaching to the 
Indians. Along with the Wesleys he had dreamed of 
winning both natives and colonists to the faith of his 
Lord, but he knew nothing of the lansn-iase of the Indians, 

" CCD ' 

and had no great aptitude for acquiring it. 

For oratory there was little scope in Georgia, where a 
congregation of one or two hundred persons was the 
largest that could be mustered ; but there was ample 
room for industry, for humility, for gentleness, and for 
self-denial ; and Whitefield, by his assiduous cultivation 
of these graces, showed that he cared more for charity 
than for the gift of speaking 4 with the tongues of men 
and of angels.' Oratory was nothing to him as an art : 
it was supremely valuable as a talent to be used for his 



AMONG THE COLONISTS. 



87 



Lord, an instrument by which hearts might be drawn to 
the cross. When it could no longer be exercised, except 
in a limited way, his zeal and ready tact immediately 
adopted the only method by which truth and purity 
could be diffused among the colonists. He went among 
the villages, like a travelling missionary in a heathen 
country ; made himself the friend of every one in them, 
men, women, and children, no matter what their nation 
or their creed ; praised their industry and success ; re- 
proved their faults ; and invited them to trust in Him 
who could save them from their sins. He was scrupu- 
lously careful not to offend the religious or national 
prejudices of any; and strove to draw all by 'the cords 
of love,' because he rightly judged that obedience re- 
sulting from that principle was the 4 most genuine and 
lasting.' It is easy to believe that a chaplain whose 
heart was touched with the colonists' every sorrow, who 
entered into their difficulties, who came to cheer them at 
their work, and sit as one of them in their huts, where 
the children gathered round his knee and the workers 
talked about the soil and the crops, was loved as a per- 
sonal friend. As such they looked upon him. The love 
which won Dummer, Bristol, London, and Gibraltar was 
simply repeating its inevitable conquests. His dauntless 
and brotherly spirit, which still retained a touch of the 
asceticism of his Oxford days, made him resolve to 
endure the worst hardships of colonial life. The weather 
was intensely hot, sometimes burning him almost through 
his shoes ; and 4 seeing others do it who.' he says, 4 were 
as unable, I determined to inure myself to hardiness by 
lying constantly on the ground ; which, by use, I found 
to be so far from being a hardship, that afterwards it be- 
came so to lie on a bed.' With this endurance he com- 
bined the charming quality of gratitude for any kindness 
either to himself or his friends. This was particularly 
displayed when the brother of his friend Habersham was 



88 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WH1TEFIELD. 



lost for some days in the woods, and the colonists — 
happily with success— made every effort to recover him : 
Whitefield went from house to house to thank them, and 
again at evening prayers, when a large congregation was 
present, ' I returned my dear hearers,' he says, 4 hearty 
thanks for the late instance of their sincere affection.' 

The settlers in the villages had but a hard lot. Their 
children offered the best field for Whitefield's efforts ; 
and he at once arranged to begin schools for them. 4 1 
also,' he says, 4 inquired into the state of their children, 
and found there were many who might prove useful 
members of the colony, if there was a proper place pro- 
vided for their maintenance and education. Nothing can 
effect this but an orphan-house, which might easily be 
erected at, or near, Savannah, would some of those that 
are rich in this world's good contribute towards it. May 
God, in His due time, stir up the wills of His faithful 
people, to be ready to distribute, and willing to com- 
municate on this commendable occasion.' The following 
extract shows the need of the flock and the tender-hearted- 
ness of the shepherd : 4 Began to-day visiting from house 
to house, and found the people in appearance desirous of 
being fed with the sincere milk of the word, and soli- 
citous for my continuance amongst them. Poor crea- 
tures ! My heart ached for them, because I saw them 
and their children scattered abroad as sheep having no 
shepherd.' 

The first of these extracts points to the inference, that 
the idea of an orphan-house for the colony was White- 
field's own ; and many of his friends who helped him 
gave him the credit of it ; but he was frank in unde- 
ceiving them, and in giving the praise to Charles Wesley 
and the humane governor, General Oglethorpe. Before 
he had thought of going abroad, they had seen and felt 
the necessity of some provision being made for the 
orphans, who must inevitably be thrown upon the colony 



DETERMINES TO BUILD AN ORPHAN-HOUSE. 



when their parents died and left them unprovided for. 
A scheme somewhat like the one which was ultimately 
adopted was devised, but, though the Wesleys made its 
practical accomplishment impossible, yet the idea was 
not abandoned. Whitefield was entreated by his friend 
Charles Wesley to remember the orphans ; and such a 
call was never made in vain upon him. He £ resolved, 
in the strength of God, to prosecute the orphan-house 
design with all his might/ The Trustees, acting no 
doubt at the suggestion of Oglethorpe, favoured him. In 
accordance with the religious character which they had 
always given to their colonisation scheme, they wrote to 
the Bishop of Bath and Wells, askiug leave for Whitefield 
to preach in the abbey church, Bath, on behalf of the pro- 
jected charity. The bishop consented, and Whitefield 
preached, with what success we have already seen. ISTow 
it occurred to him, that personal knowledge of the colony 
would be a better foundation on which to plead, than 
the conclusions and wishes of others, even though they 
were persons as estimable and wise as Charles Wesley 
and the governor. His design was accordingly held in 
abeyance until he could return to England ; and the 
money — more than three hundred pounds — which he 
had collected, and which he carried to Savannah, was 
devoted to general purposes among the poor. 

When he reached his charge, he found that the con- 
dition of the orphans was deplorable, all the kindness 
of the Trustees notwithstanding. Some were quartered 
here and there with such families as had promised, for 
a money consideration, to take them and rear them. 
Others were engaged in service when they ought to have 
been at school, and were kept at work so long and so 
hard, that educating them in their present position was 
impossible. The morals of all were corrupted by bad 
example ; the learning of those who had learned any- 
thing at all was forgotten. There was but one feasible 



1)0 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WH1TEF1ELD. 



plan for curing the mischief : a home must be built, and 
the children must be lodged, fed, clothed, and taught in 
it. Meanwhile, until he could return to England, to 
take priest's orders, and procure a grant of land from the 
Trustees, and beg money enough to build the home, and 
give it a start, he wisely did what he could to ameliorate 
the condition of them and of all other children, by 
establishing schools in the villages. 

The moral influence of the orphan-house, the esta- 
blishment of which was now his fixed purpose, was to 
prove as great and as happy over Whitefield as over the 
destitute children. He was to receive as much as he 
gave. His love and zeal and self-denial, in founding 
and maintaining it, were to return with usury of spiritual 
good. It was to be a standing appeal to his tenderness 
and test of his faith, a constant spur to his effort, and an 
anchor to his excitable mind, which might have spent 
itself upon trifles, because unable to cope with the states- 
manlike work which the legislative mind of Wesley 
gloried in mastering. It was to become the ballast of a 
noble ship which had to carry high sail in dangerous 
seas. So far as good to himself was concerned there was 
no reason why he should have been sent to his ' little 
foreign cure,' in which he was really happy, and where 
(such was his humility and his carelessness about popu- 
larity) he could have cheerfully remained, excepting to 
undertake the charge of the orphans. With this excep- 
tion, he did nothing in Georgia which he might not have 
done elsewhere, and done better. But it is remarkable 
to observe how the door of America was closed against 
Wesley, whose talents were most serviceable when con- 
centrated upon one place ; while Whitefield received a 
charge which supplied a constant motive to him to range 
through every country where he could get a congrega- 
tion to hear his message, and help his work. He was 
meant for more than a parish priest ; he was an evan- 



wesley's conversion. 



91 



gelist of nations, and the orphans supplied him with the 
motive to visit every place. 

The journal of Whitefield on Wednesday, May 24, and 
the journal of Wesley on the same day, present a striking 
contrast as well between the condition of mind as the 
work of these much attached friends. It was a quiet day 
with Whitefield ; and doubtless could Wesley have seen 
him going among the people with a contented heart, 
welcomed and honoured, he would have been both 
surprised and gratified with his unexpected success. It 
was a day of excitement, of anguish, and of joy with 
Wesley, the day of his conversion ; and could Whitefield 
have known what was going on in Aldersgate Street, it 
would have filled his mouth with joyful praise, though 
he might have been surprised that not until a time so late 
had his former religious teacher come to experience the 
same spiritual change that had taken place in himself long 
before. 6 Wednesday, May 24, went to day,' Whitefield 
says, 4 to Thunderbolt, a village about six miles off 
Savannah, situated very pleasantly near the river, and 
consisting of three families, four men and two women, 
and ten servants. I was kindly received, expounded a 
chapter, used a few collects, called on a family or two 
that lay near our way, and returned home to Savannah 
very comfortably in the evening. Blessed be God for 
strengthening my weak body ! ' Wesley says that his 
spiritual condition at this time was characterised by 
6 strange indifference, dulness, and coldness, and unusu- 
ally frequent relapses into sin.' In the evening I went 
very unwillingly to a society in Aldersgate Street, where 
one was reading Luther's preface to the Epistle to the 
Eomans. About a quarter before nine, while he was 
describing the change which God works in the heart 
through faith in Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed . 
I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone, for salvation ; and 
an assurance was given me, that he had taken away my 



92 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and 
death. 

' I began to pray with all my might for those who had 
in a more especial manner despitefully used me and per- 
secuted me. I then testified openly to all there what I 
now first felt in my heart. But it was not long before 
the enemy suggested, " This cannot be faith, for where is 
thy joy?" Then I was taught, that peace and victory 
over sin are essential to faith in the Captain of our salva- 
tion ; but that, as to the transports of joy that usually 
attend the beginning of it, especially in those who have 
mourned deeply, God sometimes giveth, sometimes with- 
holdeth them according to the counsels of His own will. 

' After my return home I was much buffeted with 
temptations, but cried out, and they fled away. They 
returned again and again. I as often lifted up my eyes, 
and He " sent me help from His holy place." And herein 
I found the difference between this and my former state 
chiefly consisted. I was striving, yea, fighting with all 
my might, under the law, as well as under grace. But 
then I was sometimes, if not often, conquered ; now, I 
was always conqueror.' 

While Whitefield, by his unceasing labours, his un- 
feigned humility, and his judicious conduct, was laying 
the foundation of an enduring affection between the whole 
colony and himself, he acknowledged himself to be largely 
indebted to his predecessors. Delamotte was much be- 
loved by the poor, to whom he was devoted ; and his 
return home was an occasion of grief to them. 6 The 
good Mr. John Wesley has done in America, under God, 
is inexpressible,' says Wliitefield. 6 His name is very pre- 
cious among the people ; and he has laid such a founda- 
tion among the people, that I hope neither men nor devils 
will ever be able to shake. Surely I must labour most 
heartily, since I come after such worthy predecessors.' 

The new chaplain was known as a man of strong con- 



AN HEEETIC. 



93 



victions, which he would carry out at any personal risk. 
When a notorious infidel died he refused to read the 
burial service over him, because it would have been a 
solemn mockery. He appealed to the people whether he 
was not justified in his refusal, and they acquiesced in his 
decision. Another of his parishioners was examined as 
to his views on the ' eternity of hell torments,' and White- 
field, finding that he believed in the annihilation of the 
wicked, not in their torment, and that he regarded it as 
his duty to speak the convictions of his mind, admonished 
him as an heretic, and told him that, for the future, he 
could not partake of the Lord's Supper. Staggered a 
little by the announcement, the heretic maintained his 
patience, and ventured to pronounce Whitefield un- 
charitable ; to which Whitefield replied, that they should 
meet at the judgment-seat, and then it would be seen 
upon what principles he acted. This incident must have 
suggested his sermon on the subject discussed between 
him and his parishioner ; it was so satisfactory to the 
people of Savannah that they asked him to publish it. I 
am half-inclined to call this achievement— the moving a 
colony of men of irregular habits and very imperfect 
morality, to ask for the publication of a sermon on 6 the 
eternity of hell torments ' — the greatest of his life. But, 
as will appear when the sermon comes under our eye 
again, they doubtless desired the words of love which 
abound on every page, more than the words of terror, 
which are scattered only here and there, in much the 
same proportion as they are found in the teachings of 
our Lord. The preacher was not half so terrible as the 
inquisitor. 

It is pleasantest to see how he was welcomed in the 
villages ; how they of Savannah delighted in his visits, 
even enduring his rebukes without murmuring ; how at 
Frederica nearly the whole of the inhabitants — a hundred 
and twenty in number — came to hear him preach, and 



94 LIFE A^D TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEPIELD. 

the settlement was all activity to build a preaching-room, 
to serve the place, pro tempore, of a church ; how the 
sturdy Highlanders of Darien, settled under the pastoral 
care of a worthy minister named McLeod, crowded the 
house in which he preached to them at the end of a single 
day's visit ; and how the Saltzburgers, who were settled, 
after weary wanderings over land and sea, at a place 
which their grateful hearts called Ebenezer, received him 
with brotherly love, while he 'joyed at beholding their 
order.' Their lands were the best cultivated in the colony, 
and yielded the best crops. Their differences were re- 
ferred not to any court, but to the judgment of their two 
pastors, Boltzius and Gronau, whom they loved devotedly, 
and to whom they looked up as fathers. Their orphan- 
house, founded on the model of Professor Franck's, of 
Halle, was a model of the one he was purposing to build ; 
and when, at the close of his visit, the seventeen orphan 
children — 6 the little lambs,' he calls them — came and 
shook hands with him, his heart must have renewed its 
vow of devotion to all who were in like distress. 

On Sunday, August 27, he preached his farewell sermon 
to his people, who, sorrowing to lose him, were comforted 
by his assurance that he would not delay his return to 
them. On the following day the chief magistrate, Mr. 
Causton, and the recorder, called to take their leave of 
him. The general demonstrations of affection for him 
overwhelmed him ; and he took the first opportunity of 
4 venting his heart by prayers and tears.' ' these part- 
ings ! ' he exclaims ; ' hasten, Lord, that time when we 
shall part no more ! ' 

The voyage was to prove one of the most dangerous 
that he performed. When they had been a month at 
sea, they were caught by a gale from the east, which 
6 put all the sailors to their wits' end.' Sails were slit, 
and tackling rent. The sea broke over the vessel with 
such violence that not a dry spot was left anywhere ; and 



A DANGEROUS VOYAGE. 



95 



Whitefield, who slept in the most secure part, wrapped 
in a buffalo's hide, was drenched twice or thrice in one 
night. His composure and faith in God made so deep an 
impression on the crew, that they would say, ' How should 
we have been blaming and cursing one another, had not 
Mr. Whitefield been amongst us ! ' 

The storm left the vessel sadly disabled, besides having 
destroyed or washed away a large portion of the pro- 
visions. There was the prospect of a tedious voyage and 
much hardship, and so it turned out. Contrary winds 
prevailed for a long time ; at the end of October the pas- 
sengers were allowed a quart of water a day. Their con- 
stant food for a long time was salt beef and water 
dumplings, which, says Whitefield, ' did not agree with 
the stomachs of all amongst us.' To bodily trials were 
added, in Whiten eld's case, 6 a variety of inward trials 
but these were in due time followed by 4 great comfort.' 
No doubt the inactivity of his life, together with the ex- 
citement caused by danger, and the physical depression 
consequent on short rations, had quite their share in pro- 
ducing his 4 inward trials ; ' although there is a solemn 
reality in that sense of spiritual desolation, as if God had 
forgotten the soul, or as if He had cast it aivay, of which 
Whitefield, in common with all devout men, frequently 
complained. 

With a humble, constant recognition of the working of 
the Almighty in all things did Whitefield hold on to the 
close of this distressing voyage. Three days before they 
sighted land, most of those in the cabin had begun to be 
weak, and to look hollow-eyed. He exclaims, 4 May we 
patiently tarry God's leisure ! Amen ! Amen ! ' On 
November 11 they were reduced to an ounce or two of 
salt beef, a pint of muddy water, and a cake made of 
flour and skimmings of the pot, as the allowance for each 
man. Cold weather had also set in, and, to add to their 
distresses, they did not know where they were, there 



96 life; and travels of george whitefield. 

being only a prevalent opinion that they were off the 
coast of Ireland. That day was closed with the appro- 
priate prayer, 4 May we now learn that man liveth not by 
bread alone.' And the next day, Sunday, November 12, 
opened with the grateful ascription, ' Blessed be the Lord 
God of Israel, who this day hath visited a distressed 
people ! ' They had entered Carrickaholt Bay, in the 
mouth of the Shannon, and were hospitably received and 
succoured by Mr. Mac Mahon, whose house stood at the 
head of the bay. 

Here Whitefield was kindly furnished with horses for 
his journey to Dublin ; and on his way he called to pay 
his respects to Dr. Burscough, the bishop of Limerick, 
who received him with ' the utmost candour and civility.' 
The day being Sunday, the traveller was sure to be made 
the preacher ; for nothing but absolute inability could 
ever keep him out of the pulpit. Limerick cathedral 
rung to his eloquence, and Irish hearts gave a quick and 
deep response. But for his unquestionable truthfulness 
in every detail of his life given by himself, and for the 
universally-attested fact that his sermons generally pro- 
duced intense excitement and awakened for himself such 
a degree of personal affection as few men enjoy even 
among their friends, it would be hard to believe that, on 
the Monday, the inhabitants looked alarmed as they passed 
along the streets, and followed him Avishfully with their 
eyes wherever he went ; that one man compelled him to 
enter his house, and accept his hospitality ; and that the 
bishop, when he took leave of him, kissed him, and said, 
4 Mr. Whitefield, God bless you ; I wish you success 
abroad : had you stayed in town, this house should have 
been your home :'— yet such, he assures us, was the case. 

At Dublin he preached with the same success ; and was 
cordially received by Dr. Delany, dean of St. Patrick's, 
by Dr. Eundel, bishop of Derry, and by Dr. Boulter, 
primate of all Ireland. He dined with the primate, and 



HOW TO PREACH. 



97 



at his table heard an expression fall from the lips of Dr. 
Delany which he never forgot, and never failed to act 
upon : — ' I wish, whenever I go up into a pulpit,' said 
the Dean, 6 to look upon it as the last time I shall ever 
preach, or the last time the people may hear.' 

On December 8 he reached London, accompanied by 
some friends who had gone to meet him on his way. 
Wesley was at Oxford ; and, as soon as the news of White- 
field's arrival reached him, he hastened up to London, and 
' God gave us,' he says, £ once more to take sw^eet counsel 
together.' 

At the close of such a year of travel and labour White- 
field had some reasons for winding up his journal with 
this emphatic verse : — 

6 Give me thy strength, Grod of power ! 
Then let winds blow, or thunders roar, 
Thy faithful witness will I be, 
'Tis fixed ! I can do all through Thee ! ' 



II 



<J8 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIBLD. 



CHAPTER V. 
Dec. and Jan. 1738-39. 

FETTER LANE MEETINGS ORDAINED PRIEST. 

Nothixg could have been more opportune for the welfare 
of Methodism in England than the arrival of John Wesley 
at Deal at the same time that Whiteheld sailed for Georgia. 
The newly-kindled fire had no time to burn low. Wesley 
at once began his labours, and that with such power as 
to bring upon him the anger and opposition which must 
have come upon Whiten* elcl, had he stayed any longer in 
London. On Saturday, February 4, 1737-8, one day after 
his arrival in London, he preached at St. John the Evan- 
gelist's, and so offended many of the best of the parish, 
that he was afterwards informed he was not to preach 
there any more. Eight days afterwards he preached with 
the same result at St. Andrew's, Holborn ; then in quick 
succession the doors of St, Lawrence's, St. Catherine 
Cree's, Great St. Helen's; St. Ann's, Alclersgate; St. John's, 
Wapping ; St, Bennett's, Paul's Wharf ; St. George's, 
Bloomsbury ; and the chapel at Long Acre, were closed in 
his face. More rejections might have followed, but early 
in June he started with his friend Ingham to see the 
brethren at Hernhuth, that they might together be re- 
freshed by fellowship with enlightened and saintly men, 
whom Wesley regarded with holy envy as possessors of 
spiritual truth which he understood not. His mind seems to 
have been in much the same condition as was Whitefield's 
in the early part of his Oxford life, yet none can think 
that he was so far from the kingdom of God as he always 



THE RELIGIOUS SOCIETIES OF LONDON; 99 



thought himself to be. The brethren of Hernhuth and 
others whom he met in England — especially Peter Bolder 
— said much to him about justification, and on his return 
home he experienced that conversion of which I have 
before spoken. Charles had already undergone it. Thus 
did both Wesley's great friends and helpers precede him 
in the practical knowledge of facts and doctrines which 
they all spent their lives in preaching. 

The close of this year saw the beginning of the united 
work of all the three ; and, for some time, their lives were 
closely blended together. They preached in the same 
rooms, prayed and spoke in the same meetings, and pre- 
sided over the same private societies, which were formed 
for the nurture of the Christian life. 

The day after Whitefield's arrival in London, he waited 
on the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of 
London, and was favourably received ; but some of the 
clergy denied him their pulpits — five in two days. He 
also went to a meeting of the Methodist society, which 
had been formed in Fetter Lane, and joined them in their 
love-feast ; an institution which Methodism still upholds, 
and which consists in eating a little bread and drinking a 
little water, singing and praying, and narrating personal 
religious experience. There were at this time other 
religious societies besides those which were springing out 
of the labours of the Methodists, and to some of them he 
had preached before he left for Georgia, getting them 
welcome collections for the charitable work they under- 
took. These societies, which were formed about 1675, 
were the result of lectures given by Dr. Horneck and Mr. 
Smithies to young men. Their original design was as 
near the Methodist model of class-meetings as possible, 
but circumstances modified them, at one time making 
them detectors and exposers of Popery ; and, at another, 
reformers of the manners of the people, and prosecutors 
of criminals. They helped to foil the Popish machina- 

H 2 



100 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 



tions of James EL, and to deliver the terrified inhabitants 
of the Tower Hamlets from city thieves, who plundered 
their houses, and abused their persons. Altogether they 
could boast of having had to do with the closing of several 
markets which had been kept open on the Sunday ; with 
the suppression of some hundreds of houses of ill-fame, 
and the punishment of their frequenters ; with the prose- 
cution of two thousand persons of bad repute, and the 
infliction upon them of whipping, fining, carting, &c. ; 
and with the conviction of notorious swearers and sabbath- 
breakers. They crowded the bridewells with prisoners, 
and do not seem to have thought of kinder methods of 
reforming criminals. Better than all, they relieved the 
sick, buried the poor, sheltered orphans, established 
schools for the education of children, and sent them out 
to trades. Their influence over the pulpits of the city 
was great and useful, for they secured eminent clergymen 
to preach upon questions vitally affecting the present con- 
dition of the people, thus helping to form a healthy public 
opinion and an earnest public spirit. Perhaps they were 
somewhat too inquisitorial, and had too great a notion of 
treating men as small children ; vet they did good service 
in their day; and although, in the time of TYnitefield, 
they had, as he says, declined much from their original 
warmth of religious zeal and energy of action, thev still 
were the friends of charity, and to them Whitefield partly 
owed some of his first popularity in the city. 1 

It must have been to one of these societies that he 
was preaching in Eedcross Street, on Christmas Day, at 
four o'clock in the morning, when he first used extem- 
poraneous prayer. A laborious day must that Christmas 
Day have been, with its first sermon at four, its second at 
six — when the preacher felt a £ little oppressed with 
drowsiness ' — its sacramental service, and three more 

1 ' An Account of the Religious Societies in the City of London.' Bv 
J. Woodward, D.D., 1701. 



FETTER LANE MEETINGS. 



101 



sermons ; and not an unworthy anniversary of a man's 
baptism. Besides, Whitefield had preached twice on 
Christmas Eve, and expounded to two societies — one of 
them the society at Fetter Lane — and then continued with 
many other brethren in prayer, singing, and thanksgiving, 
until nearly four o'clock in the morning. No wonder he 
felt a 4 little oppressed with drowsiness ! ' That society 
at Fetter Lane was at present the heart of the Methodist 
movement, its central fire. The engagements of Christ- 
mas Eve, 1738, were only an example of the prolonged, 
fervent, and, one would have thought, exhausting, but, 
Whitefield says, refreshing and invigorating, devotions 
which the brethren engaged in there. 

Sympathy of thought and feeling drew the band of 
men close together, and their souls glowed with a passion 
of religious zeal which must, sooner or later, break forth 
upon the land for good or evil, or both, while the opposi- 
tion from without only fanned the flame. It was a hope- 
ful and a dangerous time. Firstfruits of the coming 
movement abounded in the meeting — first 4 watch-night 
meeting ' (?) — in which the leaders and a company of sixty 
brethren celebrated the departure of the old year and the 
coming of the new. 6 About three in the morning,' 
Wesley says, 4 as we were continuing instant in prayer, 
the power of God came mightily upon us, insomuch that 
many cried out for exceeding joy, and many fell to the 
ground. As soon as we were recovered a little from that 
awe and amazement at the presence of His Majesty, we 
broke out with one voice, 44 We praise Thee, God ; we 
acknowledge Thee to be the Lord ! " ' Five nisrhts after- 
wards, eight 4 ministers of Jesus Christ, despised Method- 
ists, whom God in his providence brought together,' met 
at Islington to confer upon several things of importance, 
and continued in fasting and prayer until three o'clock, 
when they parted with 4 the conviction that God was 
about to do great things.' The whole of the second 



102 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



night after that Whitefield spent at Fetter Lane in the 
same devout engagements, and the next day was got 
through with one hour's sleep. £ There was a great deal 
of divine influence amongst us,' he says. 

Amid these numerous engagements, the object of his 
return to England, to receive ordination as a priest, was 
not lost sight of. At the end of December he writes to a 
friend at Gloucester : ' I am appointed by the Trustees to 
be minister of Savannah. The Bishop of London (Dr. 
Gibson) accepts the title, and has given me letters dimis- 
sory to any other bishop. I have waited also on Dr. 
Seeker, bishop of Oxford, who acquaints me that our 
worthy diocesan, good Bishop Benson, ordains for him to- 
morrow fortnight at Oxford, and that he will give me 
letters dimissory to him. God be praised ! I was praying 
day and night, whilst on shipboard, if it might be the 
Divine will that good Bishop Benson, who laid hands on 
me as a deacon, might now make me a priest. And now 
my prayer is answered. Be pleased to wait on his 
lordship, and desire him to inform you, when I must be 
at Oxford in order to receive imposition of hands. Oh, 
pray that I may be duly prepared.' With the fire of the 
Letter Lane meetings burning in his soul, he returned to 
Oxford; and on January 14, 1739, had the hands of 
4 good Bishop Benson' laid on him. 1 To make proof of 
his ministry he that day preached and administered the 
sacrament at the Castle, preached again in the afternoon 
at St. Alban's to a crowded congregation, the church 

1 Bishop Benson sent Lord Huntingdon, but evidently for the benefit of 
Lad y Huntingdon, an account of the ordination, and added — 'I hope this 
will give some satisfaction to my lady, and that she will not have occasion 
to find fault with your lordship's old tutor. Though mistaken on some 
points, I think him (Mr. Whitefield) a very pious, well-meaning young 
man, with good abilities and great zeal. I find his Grace of Canterbury 
thinks highly of him. I pray God grant him great success in all his under- 
takings for the good of mankind, and a revival of true religion and holiness 
among us in these degenerate days ; in which prayer I am sure your lordship 
and my kind good Lady Huntingdon will most heartily join.' 



HARD WORK. 



103 



being surrounded with gownsmen, who stood as attentive 
hearers at the windows^ then joined in thanksgiving for 
all his mercies, read prayers at Carfax, expounded to a 
devout company at a private house, and spent the rest 
of the evening with thirteen more friends, doubtless in 
religious engagements. 

On his return to London, the day after his ordination, 
he resumed the kind of life which has been described, 
— preaching, praying, expounding, and collecting money 
for his poor flock in Georgia. The only diversity was 
opposition to his doctrine of the new birth, to his and 
his brethren's use of extempore prayer, and to their 
using the private societies for religious purposes. These 
last, it was alleged, were offences against the canons and 
the act of Charles II. Whitefield replied that his meet- 
ings were for private worship, not public, and had no 
hostile intent against the Church. Another noticeable 
incident w r as his visit to Dr. Watts, now an old man, who 
received him ' most cordially.' But the most important 
fact of the month was the thought of preaching in the 
open air, which was suggested to him by a crowd of a 
thousand people having been unable to gain admission 
to Bermondsey Church, where he preached one Sunday 
afternoon. It met with no encouragement when he 
mentioned it to some of his friends ; they thought it was a 
' mad motion.' However, it would have been carried 
out the next Sunday at Ironmongers' Almshouses, had 
not the preacher been disappointed in his congregation, 
which was small enough to hear him from the pulpit. 
He took two sermons with him, one for within and the 
other for without. What were his impressions about 
this untoward circumstance he nowhere says ; most pro- 
bably he had humble and self-reproachful thoughts for 
having run before there seemed to be need. 

Such intense and long continued work as he rushed into 
upon his return home could not fail to tell upon him, and 



104 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



his entry in his journal on February G is such as one 
expects to see : ' Went to St. Helen's, where, all on a 
sudden, I was taken so ill in body, and was so deserted 
in soul, that I would have criven anything for my written 
notes ; yet God gave me to trust in Him for strength and 
assistance, and before I had done I was warm in heart, 
and strong enough in body to continue to offer Jesus 
Christ freely for a considerable time to all that would lay 
hold on Him by faith.' At this time we hear the sound 
of those peculiar Aniens, which have distinguished the 
children of Methodism down to this late day. 4 Many 
seemed to feel what was spoken, and said hearty and 
loud aniens to my sentences.' The next day another 
keen attack struck him at Windsor. We shall see this 
weakness showing itself all through his life to the last : 
and if we keep in memory its existence, and not allow 
ourselves to think, as we follow him day and night 
through his ceaseless toils, that we are with a man who 
has no infirmities — who, as it has been expressed. 1 • was 
gifted with an incapacity of fatiguing or of being fatigued 1 
— we shall form a juster estimate of the heavenly fervour 
which triumphed first over his own frailness, and then 
over every outside difficulty. He was often fatigued 
beyond endurance ; but the sight of his congregation, 
the delight he had in his work, and the strength which 
comes from above, quickened him to speak with freedom 
and power. 4 Freedom and power ' — these were the two 
qualities in his preaching which he prized before all 
others. If anything was present to gladden him these 
were his joy; if anything was absent and depressed him. 
these were the missing treasure. But not often was 
he without them ; not often could he fear to appropriate 
the humble boast of St. Paul — 4 Our gospel came not 
unto you in word only, but also in power, and in the 
Holy Ghost, and in much assurance.' 

1 1 Essays in Ecclesiastical Biography.' By Sir J. Stephen. 



TOWN AND COUNTRY ON FIRE. 



105 



A short tour in the provinces gave him his first taste 
of direct hostility, the mob and the Church being of one 
mind in openly opposing him. It also gave him his first 
taste of the sweets of field preaching. There was truth 
in half of the exclamation which a not too devout ob- 
server uttered when Whitefield started from London : 
6 1 believe the devil in hell is in you all ' — that was the 
untrue half ; — 4 Whitefield has set the town on fire, and 
now he is gone to kindle a flame in the country ' — that 
was the true half. There was alarm among the powers 
of the Church in the cities of Bath and Bristol before his 
arrival there ; and his application to preach in the Abbey 
church at Bath on behalf of the orphan-house was met 
with a positive refusal, although the bishop had given 
the Trustees of Georgia a promise, before Whitefield 
sailed for Georgia, that such a service might be held. 
The refusal came not, however, from the bishop. Similar 
treatment at Bristol, to which he at once withdrew, led 
to results so important, that we must devote another 
chapter to them. 



106 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEF1ELD. 



CHAPTEK VI. 
February to April, 1739. 

EXPELLED THE CHURCHES — OPEN AIR PREACHING. 

'Near the city of Bristol is a tract of country called 
Kingswood. Formerly, as its name implies, it had been a 
royal chase, containing between three and four thousand 
acres ; but it had been gradually appropriated by the 
several lords whose estates lay round about its borders ; 
and their title, which for a long time was no better than 
what possession gave them, had been legalised. The deer 
had long since disappeared, and the greater part of the 
wood also ; and coal mines having been discovered there, 
from which Bristol derives its chief supply of fuel, it was 
now inhabited by a race of people as lawless as the forest- 
ers their forefathers, but far more brutal, and differing as 
much from the people of the surrounding country in dia- 
lect as in appearance. They had at that time no place of 
worship, for Kingswood then belonged to the out-parish 
of St. Philip and Jacob ; and if the colliers had been dis- 
posed to come from a distance of three or four miles, 
they would have found no room in the parish church of 
a populous suburb. When, upon his last visit to Bristol, 
before his embarkation, Whitefleld spoke of converting 
the savages, many of his friends said to him, " What need 
of going abroad for this ? Have we not Indians enough 
at home ? If you have a mind to convert Indians, there 
are colliers enough in Kingswood." ' 1 

1 Southey's 1 Life of Wesley,' chap. vi. 



KINGSWOOD COLLIERS. 



107 



And the colliers were still Indians when Whitefield 
revisited Bristol, the pious friends having, as is usual with 
those who dissuade from mission work, done nothing 
themselves to produce a change. Heathenism was at 
their doors, and they left it alone in its sin and misery, 
till the young clergyman should return from the Georgian 
Creeks and grapple with it ; and even he might have 
failed in this gracious task had not opposition confronted 
him. When clergymen were cold, and the chancellor of 
the diocese captious, and churches scarce, Whitefield had 
time and inducements to carry out those loving wishes 
towards the colliers, which had stirred his heart for a 
long time ; nor was the desire to attempt open-air preach- 
ing without its weight on the same side. 

Understanding that the minister of St. Mary KedclifFe 
was willing to lend his church for sermons to be preached 
on behalf of the orphan-house, Whitefield applied first of 
all to him, and the answer was a civil refusal ; the church 
could not be lent without a special order from the chan- 
cellor. To the chancellor Whitefield went. The reply 
from him was, 4 that he would not give any positive 
leave, neither would he prohibit any one that should 
lend Whitefield a church ; but he would advise him to 
withdraw to some other place till he had heard from the 
bishop, and not preach on that or any other occasion 
soon.' Whitefield asked him his reasons. He answered, 
4 Why will you press so hard upon me ? The thing has 
given a general dislike/ Whitefield replied, 6 Not the 
design of the orphan-house. Even those that disagree 
with me in other particulars approve of that. And as 
for the gospel, when was it preached without dislike ? ' 
The dean, when called upon soon after the interview 
with the chancellor, gave the same ambiguous replies 
with the same plain meaning : 4 Mr. Whitefield, we would 
rather not say yea or nay to you ; but we mean nay, and 
greatly wish that you would understand us so.' 



108 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



The societies were still open, so was Newgate, and 
then there were the colliers. These last were visited 
on a Saturday afternoon for the first time. Whitefield 
took his stand on Hannan Mount, and spoke upon Matt, 
v. 1, 2, and 3, to as many as came to hear ; upwards 
of two hundred attended. He does not say what were 
his feelings in his novel situation, nor what were the im- 
pressions upon his audience. His only remark in his 
journal is, 'Blessed be God that the ice is now broke, 
and I have now taken the field ! Some may censure me. 
But is there not a cause ? Pulpits are denied, and the 
poor colliers ready to perish for lack of knowledge.' As 
this act was taken on the day after his interviews with 
the chancellor and the dean, he had lost no time in 
breaking the ice. Now he was the owner of a pulpit 
that no man could take from him, and his heart rejoiced 
in this great gift. But all in Bristol was not so dark on 
Sunday morning as it had been on Friday night and 
Saturday. Three pulpits were placed at his disposal, 
and from two of them he preached, one being that of 
St. Mary Eedcliffe : there he had such a congregation as 
his eyes had never yet seen, and he preached with 
4 liberty.' But the most enjoyable part of the day was 
its close, which was spent with two of the societies. 
Monday opened the parish church of St. Philip and Jacob, 
and gave him a noble congregation, and a collection of 
eighteen pounds for his orphan-house. 

Perhaps these quick, decisive movements put the chan- 
cellor on his mettle ; for, on the Monday, a summons 
came from the apparitor commanding Whitefield's ap- 
pearance before the chancellor. With this document in 
his pocket, Whitefield spent a joyful night among his 
friends in Baldwin Street ; and on Tuesday morning, at 
ten o'clock, he waited upon the chancellor, who plainly 
told him that he intended to stop his proceedings. 6 1 
have sent for the register here, sir,' said he, 4 to take 

( 



THREATENED WITH EXCOMMUNICATION. 



109 



down your answer.' The first question was, by what 
authority Whitefield preached in the diocese of Bristol 
without a licence. Whitefield replied, that he thought 
that custom was grown obsolete. And then becoming 
questioner in turn, he asked the chancellor, 4 And why, 
pray sir, did not you ask the clergyman this question 
who preached for you last Thursday ? ' He said that was 
nothing to Whitefield. He then read over part of the 
ordination office, and those canons that forbid any minis- 
ter's preaching in a private house, &c. ; and asked what 
Whitefield had to say to them. He answered, that he 
apprehended that those canons did not belong to pro- 
fessed ministers of the Church of England. The chan- 
cellor replied that they did. Again Whitefield resorted 
to the ad hominem method : 4 There is also a canon, said 
I, sir, forbidding all clergymen to frequent taverns and 
play at cards ; why is not that put in execution ? ' Said 
the chancellor — 4 Why does not some one complain of 
them, and then it would ? ' That is the old church 
scandal ; doctrine and form are put before common 
morality ; for not seldom has it been safer to break all 
the laws of God, while swearing to articles, or pronoun- 
cing party words, than to be undecided about an article, 
or unable to shape the words, yet loving to do the will 
of God. The chancellor next accused Whitefield of false 
doctrine, whereupon he received a proper answer : 4 1 
cannot but speak the things I know ; and I am resolved 
to proceed as usual.' 4 Observe his answer, then, Mr. 
Register,' said he. Then, turning to Whitefield, he 
added, 4 1 am resolved, sir, if you preach or expound any- 
where in this diocese, till you have a licence, I will first 
suspend, and then excommunicate you. And what I do is 
in the name of the clergy and laity of the city of Bristol.' 
How much truth there was in the whole statement ap- 
peared on the afternoon of the day that it was made. The 
laity of Bristol, who were said to want the silencing of 



110 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



Whitefield, congregated in thousands around St. Nicholas' 
Church, hoping to hear him preach ; but the lecturer 
sent word that orders were given by the clergyman that 
he should not preach in his church. The societies re- 
mained open, and the laity crowded their meetings that 
night. 

The second interview with the chancellor was followed 
by the same action as the first, and with more encoura- 
ging results. On the following day the journal relates, 
6 All the church doors being now shut, and if open not 
able to contain half that came to hear, at three in the 
afternoon I went to Kin^swood among the colliers. God 
highly favoured us in sending us a fine day, and near two 
thousand people were assembled on that occasion. I 
preached and enlarged on John iii. 3 for near an hour, 
and, I hope, to the comfort and edification of those that 
heard me.' Two days afterwards he stood upon the 
same spot, and preached to a congregation of four or five 
thousand with great freedom. The bright sun overhead 
and the immense throne standing around him in awful 
silence formed a picture which filled him with 4 holy ad- 
miration.' 

He kept up this double conflict with ecclesiastics and 
with the devil with surprising ease. From a sermon to 
Kingswood heathen, or an exposition to Newgate prison- 
ers, to an interview with the chancellor, or a letter to the 
bishop, he could turn himself without discomfort ; and 
the two kinds of engagements come up in his journal 
with an amusing regularity of sequence. In the follow- 
ing letter he told his case to the bishop : 

1 Bristol, Feb. 24, 1739. 
' My Lord, — I humbly thank your lordship for the favour of 
your lordship's letter. It gave abundant satisfaction to me 
and many others, who have not failed to pray in a particular 
manner for your lordship's temporal and eternal welfare. To- 
day I showed your lordship's letter to the chancellor, who 



APPEALS TO THE BISHOP OF BRISTOL. 



Ill 



(notwithstanding he promised not to prohibit my preaching for 
the orphan-house, if your lordship was only neuter in the 
affair) has influenced most of the clergy to deny me their 
pulpits, either on that or any other occasion. Last week he 
was pleased to charge me with false doctrine. To-day he has 
forgot that he said so. He also threatened to excommunicate 
me for preaching in your lordship's diocese. I offered to take 
a licence, but was denied. If your lordship should ask what 
evil I have done ? I answer none, save that I visit the religious 
societies, preach to the prisoners in Newgate, and to the poor 
colliers in Kingswood, who, they tell me, are little better than 
heathens. I am charged with being a Dissenter, though many are 
brought to the Church by my preaching, not one taken from it. 
Indeed, the chancellor is pleased to tell me my conduct is con- 
trary to canons ; but I told him those canons which he produced 
were not intended against such meetings as mine are, where 
his majesty is constantly prayed for, and every one is free to 
see what is done. I am sorry to give your lordship this trouble, 
but I thought proper to mention these particulars, that I might 
know of your lordship wherein my conduct is exceptionable. 
I heartily thank your lordship for your intended benefaction. 
I think the design is truly good, and will meet with success, 
because so much opposed. God knows my heart, I desire only 
to promote His glory. If I am spoken evil of for His sake, I 
rejoice in it. My Master was long since spoken evil of before 
me. But I intrude on your lordship's patience. I am, with 
all possible thanks, my lord, 

4 Your lordship's dutiful son and servant, 

4 George Wiiitefield.' 

To the chancellor he wrote as follows : — 

4 Eeverend Sir, — The enclosed is a letter I sent on Saturday 
to the Bishop of Bristol ; be pleased to peruse, and see if any- 
thing contrary to truth is there related by, 

6 Eeverend sir, your very humble servant, 

4 George Whitefield.' 

' Bristol, Feb. 26, 173|.' 

Of course the intervening clay, Sunday, was devoted 
to preaching. Bussleton, a village two miles from Bristol, 



112 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

opened its church to him, and a numerous congregation 
coming together, he first read prayers in the church and 
then preached in the churchyard. At four he hastened to 
Kingswood. Though the month was February the weather 
was unusually open and mild ; the setting sun shone with 
his fullest power; the trees and hedges were crowded 
with hearers who wanted to see the preacher as well as 
hear him. For an hour he spoke with a voice loud 
enough to be heard by every one, and his heart was not 
without joy in his own message. Calling to mind the 
observation made on his setting out for the country, he 

wrote in his journal : ' Blessed be God, Mr. spoke 

right. The fire is kindled in the country ; may the gates 
of hell never be able to prevail against it ! ' The day was 
closed by visits to two societies. At nine he came home 
rejoicing to find how all things turn out for the further- 
ance of the gospel. He began his day's work at six in 
the morning, and so weary as to think he could do no- 
thing : fifteen hours' work out of a weary body ! What a 
tale does that one Sunday tell of the triumph of the spirit 
over the flesh ! 

It is important to know what were his feelings when 
he met these immense field congregations, whose numbers 
had grown from two hundred to twenty thousand, and 
what were the effects of his preaching upon his audience. 
His own words are, 6 Having no righteousness of them 
own to renounce, they were glad to hear of a Jesus who 
was a friend to publicans, and came not to call the 
righteous, but sinners, to repentance. The first dis- 
covery of their being affected was, to see the white 
gutters made by their tears, which plentifully fell down 
their black cheeks, as they came out of their coal pits. 
Hundreds and hundreds of them were soon brought 
under deep convictions, which (as the event proved) 
happily ended in a sound and thorough conversion. The 
change was visible to all, though numbers chose to im- 



WHITEFIELD S TEARS. 



113 



pute it to anything rather than the finger of God. As 
the scene was quite new, and I had just begun to be an 
extempore preacher, it often occasioned many inward 
conflicts. Sometimes, when twenty thousand people were 
before me, I had not, in my own apprehension, a word 
to say, either to God or them. But I was never totally 
deserted, and was frequently (for to deny it would be 
lying against God) so assisted, that I knew by happy 
experience, what our Lord meant by saying, " Out of his 
belly shall flow rivers of living water." The open firma- 
ment above me, the prospect of the adjacent fields, with 
the sight of thousands and thousands, some in coaches, 
some on horseback, and some in the trees, and, at times, 
all affected and drenched in tears together, to which 
sometimes was added the solemnity of the approaching 
evening, was almost too much for, and quite overcame, 
me.' 

The overpowering emotion of which he speaks, and the 
tears which made white gutters on the begrimed faces of 
the colliers, were the answer to his own passionate feelings. 
Seldom did he preach without drenching his audience in 
tears, and the effect was due quite as much to his unre- 
strained manifestation of strong feeling as to his words. I 
Especially must this characteristic have struck the hearts 
of rough men, who, after having been long uncared for, 
at last saw a clergyman willing to endure fatigue and 
shame for the sake of preaching to them. He spoke as 
having nothing to keep back from them, as having no- 
thing to be ashamed of, least of all of those tender yearn- 
ings of divine compassion which had constrained him to 
come to them, and instead of assuming a placid com- 
posure which he did not feel he let his whole manner 
express what was in him. 4 1 hardly ever knew him go 
through a sermon without weeping more or less,' said his 
friend Cornelius Winter, 4 and I truly believe his were 
the tears of sincerity. His voice was often interrupted 

I 



114 LIFE A5D TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEF1ELD. 



by his affection ; and I have heard him say in the pulpit, 
"You blame me for weeping, but how can I help it, 
when you will not weep for yourselves, though your 
immortal souls are upon the verge of destruction, and, for 
aught you know, you are hearing your last sermon, and 
may never more have an opportunity to have Christ 
offered to you." His freedom in the use of his passions 
often put my pride to the trial. I could hardly bear 
such unreserved use of tears, and the scope he gave to 
his feelings, for sometimes he exceedingly wept, stamped 
loudly and passionately, and was frequently so overcome, 
that, for a few seconds, you would suspect he never 
could recover ; and when he did, nature required some 
little time to compose herself 

The visit to Bristol was interrupted for a few days to 
make an excursion into Wales ; but, although this was the 
first appearance of a famous, avowed Methodist among 
the Welsh, Methodism was already among them, both in 
mode and spirit. Clergymen had gone beyond parish 
boundaries, preaching to large congregations in churches, 
in churchyards, and in fields ; religious societies, founded 
upon the rules which Dr. Woodward had laid down for 
the societies in London, were scattered here and there to 
the number of thirty ; the great doctrines and holy com- 
mandments of the Gospel were taught with power which 
fell little, if at all, below that which marked the minis- 
trations of Whitefield. The two prime movers in the 
work were Griffith Jones and Howel Harris. 

Griffith Jones, rector of Llanddowror, Caermarthenshire, 
was a man of ardent' piety and noble courage, and the 
greatest preacher in the principality in his day. His 
fame extended far beyond the limits of his own cure ; and 
congregations not favoured with so popular and useful a 
ministry as was his, would send him pressing invitations 
to come and preach to them. Nor, in spite of constitu- 
tional weakness, was he unwilling to accept the calls. He 



REV. GRIFFITH JONES. 



115 



so arranged his tours as to take several places at the 
same time, and generally in Easter or Whitsun-week, 
when lie knew that wakes, fairs, and other riotous gather- 
ings of the people would be doing their destructive 
work. In this irregular work he preceded all the English 
Methodists ; and it is not unlikely that Whitefield had his 
example in his mind when he stood up at Kingswood and 
in Moorfields. But there was not always unanimity be- 
tween the parishioners and their clergy about these invi- 
tations and visits. Idle and irreligious clergymen did not 
like to be placed in contrast with the diligent rector ; and 
so, after the churchwarden had announced the coming 
visitor, the incumbent would often make sure of the 
church-key, and compel both his people and their 
favourite preacher to take their stand in the open air. 
The next act of brotherly charity was to lodge an accu- 
sation in the Ecclesiastical Court, and torment the rector 
with law. He had twenty years of litigation. 

But Griffith Jones's £ Welsh Circulating Schools' eclipsed 
his labours as a preacher. He conceived the idea of set- 
tling a schoolmaster in a locality where the people had 
requested to be taught — of his continuing there until all 
who wished for instruction had received it, and then of 
his passing on to the next place where he was wanted. 
The instruction was not, of course, very elaborate : it con- 
sisted in reading the Bible in the Welsh tongue, in psalmody, 
and in knowing the catechism. Its object was eminently 
religious. Jones wanted the people to be able to follow 
him intelligently in the service of the Church, and to help 
themselves when he was not with them. As helpers in 
his work he was obliged, on account of the bad state of 
the Established Church, to fall back upon Nonconformists, 
who supplied him with most of his teachers. These he 
trained in a seminary at Llanddowror. Staunch church- 
man as he was, he had to turn from his own communion, 
and unwillingly seek the co-operation of men whose eccle- 



11G LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEF1ELD. 



siastical views were disagreeable to him. His benevolence, 
his zeal, his foresight, and his charity were amply justi- 
fied and rewarded by the results of his work. Within ten 
years of the establishment of the schools, or two years 
after Whitefield paid his first visit to Wales, there were 
one hundred and twenty-eight schools, and seven thou- 
sand five hundred and ninety-five persons instructed in 
them. Twenty years later, ten thousand persons were 
taught to read in one year. 1 

The testimony of this true churchman and devoted 
Christian as to the religious condition of his country may 
be taken as of some account. He says : ' 1 must also do 
justice to the Dissenters in Wales, and will appeal for the 
truth of it to all competent judges, and to all those them- 
selves who separate from us (except only such who have 
hardly any more charity for those they differ from than 
the Church of Borne), that it was not any scruple of con- 
science about the principles or orders of the Established 
Church that ^a\e occasion to scarce one in ten of the 
Dissenters in this country to separate from us at first, 
whatever objections they may afterwards imbibe against 
conforming. No, sir ; they generally dissent at first for no 
other reason than for want of plain, practical, pressing, 
and zealous preaching, in a language and dialect they 
are able to understand ; and freedom of friendly access to 
advise about their spiritual state. When they come (some 
way or other) to be pricked in their hearts for their sins, 
and find perhaps no seriousness in those about them, none 
to unbosom their griefs to. none that will patiently hear 
their complaints, and deal tenderly by their souls, and 
dress their wounds, they flee to other people for relief, as 
dispossessed demoniacs will no longer frequent the tombs 
of the dead. For, though the Church of England is 
allowed to be as sound and healthful a part of the 
catholic church as any in the world, yet when people are 

1 'History of Nonconformity in "Wales.* by Thomas Rees, p. 351. 



1I0WEL HAKE IS. 



117 



awakened from their lethargy and begin to perceive their 
danger, they will not believe that there is anything in 
reason, law. or gospel that should oblige them to starve 
their souls to death for the sake of conforming, if their 
pastor (whose voice, perhaps, they do not know, or who 
resides a great way from them) will not vouchsafe to deal 
rait unto them the Bread of Life.' 1 

If for Dissenters, in the above extract, we read ^Metho- 
dists, from the time of Whiteneld's labours, we shall have 
a sound explanation of the causes why Methodism gained 
such a footing among the Welsh. An idle, incapable, irre- 
ligious clergy will not be tolerated for ever, even by the 
most abject of nations ; and only one result can follow. 
When anyone, whether clergyman. Dissenter, or Church- 
man, with religious life in his soul, speaks the things he 
knows and believes, the people will go and hear him. 

Howel Harris was born in January. 1714. thirty years 
after Griffith Jones, and eleven months before Whitefield. 
The Welsh and the English preachers were very similar 
in disposition. When youths, they both were sprightly 
and fond of a jest. When men and ministers, they both 
were irresistibly earnest, vehement, solemn, exciting racre 
or subduing their audiences like children. Harris perhaps 
being the sterner of the two. Underneath all his lightness 
of manner there had iain, as in the case of Whitefield, 
much religious seriousness from the days of his childhood 
to the time of his becoming a new man. which was in 
1735, about the same time that Whitefield passed through 
his memorable change. A sharp, incisive sentence, spoken 
by his vicar, struck into his conscience, and made him 
resolve to live a new life. It was this, 6 If you are not fit 
to come to the Lord's table, you are not fit to come to 
church ; you are neither fit to live nor die.' His mind was 
filled with alarm when he discovered how vast were the 

1 Welsh piety for 1741 (quoted from Rees' 1 History of Nonconformity in 
Wales/ p. 356). 



113 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 



claims of the divine law, and how imperfect had been his 
acknowledgment of them. Then he fasted, and denied 
himself every temporal comfort, in order to subdue his 
depravity ; but all was of no avail, until he believed that 
Christ had died for him, and that all his sins had been 
laid on Him. Ignorant of all the disputed points of reli- 
gion, he lived in the simple faith that God loved him, 
and would, for His own name's sake, love him freely to 
the end. 

His tender, earnest, pure mind was much shocked by 
the prevailing wickedness of his native land, its neglect of 
family worship, its swearing, lying, and reviling, its 
drunkenness, fighting, and gaming. He also expresses his 
concern about the neglect of the people by their pastors, 
which, considering how his own religious life had been 
quickened, strikes one as somewhat strange, and leads us 
to conclude either that he must have been very unfair to 
his own vicar, or that the vicar must have been addicted 
to good preaching, when he did preach, and yet have 
been an unfaithful shepherd. His zeal found work among 
some poor people who went every Sunday night to hear 
him preach in his mother's house ; and he soon became 
4 the talk of the country.' 

In Xovember, 1735, he went to Oxford, and entered at 
St. Mary's Hall ; but Oxford had nothing congenial, or he 
failed to find it ; and, instead of coutinuing there, as 
Whitefield and the Wesleys had done, and as other 
devout men were doing at the time he was there, at the 
end of the term he returned to Wales, weary of the place, 
because, as he savs. of 6 the irregularities and wickedness 
which surrounded him.'" 

; After my return. I was occupied in going from house 
to house, until I had visited nearly the whole of the parish 
in which I was born' — Talgarth, in Brecon — ; together 
with some of the neighbouring ones. The people began 
now to assemble in vast numbers, so that the houses in 



RELIGION IN WALES. 



119 



which I addressed them were too small for the congre- 
gations. The word was attended with such powder, that 
many cried out on the spot for the pardon of their sins. 
Such as lived in malice acknowledged their faults, made 
peace with one another, and appeared concerned about 
their eternal state. The parish churches were now better 
attended, and family worship was set up in many 
houses.' 1 

Opposition from the clergy, the magistrates, and the 
populace checked the enterprise a little. He next opened 
a school ; and, at the end of 1736, a novel method of em- 
ploying his gift suggested itself. He accompanied from 
parish to parish a young man who w r ent about to instruct 
young people in psalmody ; and, at the close of the music 
lesson, offered 4 a word of exhortation.' Then he set on 
foot the religious societies to which I have referred. He 
went on teaching his school in the day, and preaching at 
night and on the Sunday, until his school was taken from 
him, which only gave him the greater opportunity to 
accept every invitation to preach ; instead of the odd 
night services he preached now to crowded auditories 
from three to six times a day. 

A fiercer storm answered his lamer devotion. He 

o 

says, 4 Now I was loaded with all manner of calumnies, 
from all quarters. The magistrates threatened me, and 
the clergy preached against me, branding me with the 
character of a false prophet and deceiver. The mob was 
also active, lying in wait for me in many places, with 
mischievous intentions. Yet during all this I w 7 as carried 
as on wings of an eagle triumphantly over all. I took 
no particular texts, but discoursed freely, as the Lord 
gave utterance. The gift I had received was to convince 
the conscience of sin. There appeared now a general 
reformation in several counties. Public diversions were 

1 Morgan's ' Life and Times of Howel Harris/ in Rees' ' Welsh Xoncon- 
formity,' p. 362. 



120 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



laid aside, religion became a common subject of conver- 
sation, and places of worship were everywhere crowded. 
The Welsh Charity Schools, by the exertions of the Be v. 
Griffith Jones, began to spread ; people in general ex- 
pressed a willingness to receive instruction ; and societies 
were formed in many places.' 1 

About this time a friend brought him news of White- 
field's labours in London, immediately before sailing for 
Georgia ; and at once the young Welshman felt his heart 
united to Whitefield ' in such a manner as he had never 
felt the like with anyone before.' He longed to see him, 
but that was impossible. To his great joy, however, a 
letter came to him from Whitefield, soon after his return 
from Georgia. 

' London, December, 1738. 

'My dear brother, — Though I am unknown to you in person, 
yet I have long been united to you in spirit ; and have been re- 
joiced to hear how the good pleasure of the Lord prospered in 
your hands. Gro on, go on ! He that sent you will assist, com- 
fort, and protect you, and make you more than conqueror 
through His great love. I am a living monument of this truth. 
I love you, and wish you may be the spiritual father of thou- 
sands, and shine as the sun in the kingdom of your heavenly 
Father. Oh, how shall I joy to meet you at the judgment seat ! 
How you would honour me if you would send a line to your 
affectionate though unworthy brother, 

e GrEORGE WHITEFIELD.' 

To this letter Harris replied the day after its reception. 
The following are extracts from it : — 

; Glamorgan, Jan. 8, 1739. 

■ Dear brother, — I was most agreeably surprised last night by 
a letter from you. The character you bear, the spirit I see and 
feel in your work, and the close union of my soul and spirit to 

1 Morgan's 1 Life and Times of Howel Harris,' in Rees' 1 Welsh Noncon- 
formity,' p. 369. 



WHITEFIELD AXD IIAKKIS. 



121 



yours, will not allow me to use any apology in my return to 
you. Though this is the first time of our correspondence, yet 
I can assure you I am no stranger to you. When I first heard 
of you and your labours and success, my soul was united to 
you, and engaged to send addresses to heaven on your behalf. 
When I read your diary, I had some uncommon influence of 
the Divine presence shining upon my poor soul almost con- 
tinually. And my soul was, in an uncommon manner, drawn 
out on your account ; but I little thought our good Lord and 
Master intended I should ever see your handwriting. Sure, no 
person is under such obligations to advance the glory of free 
goodness and grace as this poor prodigal. Oh, how ravishing it 
is to hear of the Divine love and favour to London ! And, to 
make your joy greater still, I have some more good news to 
send you from Wales. There is a great revival in Cardiganshire 
through one Mr. D. Eowlands, a Church clergyman, who has been 
much owned and blessed in Caermarthenshire also. We have 
also a sweet prospect in Breconshire and part of Monmouthshire. 
I hint this in general, as I could not testify my love any way 
more agreeably to your soul, than to let you know how the in- 
terest of our good, gracious, and dear Saviour prospers here- 
abouts. Were you to come to Wales it would not be labour in 
vain. I hope the faithful account I have given you will excite 
you to send again a line to him that would be sincerely yours, 
in Christ Jesus, whilst H. H.' 

Though it was of no small use to Harris, who was greatly 
distressed about his own irregular mode of preaching, to 
hear Whitefield's encouraging ' Go on, go on ! ' he yet 
was not completely satisfied. His fear of not being right 
made him halt in his step ; but the importunity of the 
people, the visible good tendency of his labours, the ap- 
probation of many whom he regarded as good ministers, 
and the continual power he felt helping him in his work, 
at length overcame every scruple. Besides, he had 
several times offered himself for holy orders, and been 
refused, because he preached as a layman, and so he was 
shut up to this way, or to total silence. 

It will be seen from these sketches of Griffith Jones 



122 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 

and Howel Harris what was the state of things in the 
Church of England in Wales, and to some extent in Non- 
conformity. The preaching of the godly clergy was 
frowned upon by their own brethren, and supported, as 
well as welcomed, by the Dissenters. 

We can also understand why Whitefield broke away 
for a few clays from the thousands of Bristol and Kings - 
wood. His soul and the soul of Harris leaped to each 
other like flames of fire. 

An incident of the short passage to Wales is much too 
characteristic of the times to be omitted. Contrary winds 
delayed Whitefield at the New Passage, and he says, 6 At 
the inn there was an unhappy clergyman, who would 
not go over in the passage-boat because I was in it. 
Alas ! thought I, this very temper would make heaven 
itself unpleasant to that man, if he saw me there. I was 
told that he charged me with being* a Dissenter. I saw 
him, soon after, shaking his elbows over a gaming table.' 
How inevitably the figure of this priest recalls the 4 young 
fellow in a rusty gown and cassock, who,' as Eoderick 
Eandom 4 afterwards understood, was curate of a neigh- 
bouring parish.' 4 However,' according to the testimony 
of the exciseman who helped Parson Shuffle to cheat the 
two farmers, and who therefore ought to have known his 
own friend, 4 the fellow cannot be too much admired for 
his dexterity in making a comfortable livelihood in spite 
of such a small allowance. You hear he plays a good 
stick, and is really diverting company ; these qualifications 
make him agreeable wherever he goes ; and, as for play- 
ing at cards, there is not a man within three counties a 
match for him. . . He can shift a card with such address 
that it is impossible to discover him.' Some parsons in 
the north and some in the west do not seem to have been 
much unlike in the days of Smollett and Whitefield. 

The Welsh visit was very short, and was marked with 
those experiences which Whitefield was to know as com- 



FORBIDDEN TO PREACH TO PRISONERS. 



123 



mon things for the rest of his life. First of all, the 
© 

church at Cardiff was denied him, and he had to resort 
to the town-hall, where he preached from the judge's seat 
to a small audience of four hundred people. No outrage 
was attempted in the building, but some of the baser sort 
amused themselves by trailing a dead fox around it outside 
— a very trifling annoyance to a preacher with such lung 
power, and who could make himself heard in spite of the 
shouting and noise. Then there were 4 melting ' meetings 
of a more private sort with the religious societies ; and 
on the whole he had reason, as he says, to think that 
there was • a most comfortable prospect of the spreading 
of the gospel in Wales.' 

On his return to Bristol he had to suffer meaner oppo- 
sition than any he had met with before. Newgate, where 
he had delighted to preach to the prisoners, and where, 
by his gifts, he had relieved much distress, was closed 
against him. Unwilling to lose their friend and teacher, 
many of the prisoners sent a petition to the mayor, pray- 
ing that he might be allowed to come among them as 
usual ; but the mayor would not grant them their request. 
Mr. Dagge, the keeper, a convert and friend of Whitefield, 
remonstrated, and urged that Whitefield preached agree- 
ably to Scripture ; but the only answer was, to appoint 
another clergyman to the post of chaplain — for shame 
forbade his denying the poor unfortunates all religious 
aid. This disappointment was cause for great rejoicing 
to the expelled Methodist, who, taking up St. Paul's lan- 
guage, wrote in his journal, £ Some preach Christ out of 
contention, and others of good will : however, Christ is 
preached.' 

His persecution had ample compensation in the new 
power of which he had become conscious, and in the new 
field of labour which he had found since his arrival in the 
west, the fields giving him room enough for any congre- 
gation, and the people delighting to meet him there in 



124 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



all weathers, even the cold and snow of March not being 
able to keep them away. At Bath, at Bristol, and in the 
neighbouring villages, he was daily engaged in preaching 
to thousands, — in the churches if he could gain admis- 
sion to them, and if not, then under the May-pole or in 
the fields, or in any open space where the people had a 
right to assemble. Then it was that he felt the wonder- 
ful influence which pervades mighty audiences, possessed 
with one concern, bending their attention to one subject, 
and engaged in one common service. His favourite con- 
gregation was the Kingswood one, which met on the 
Sunday. The crowds standing in awful silence, and the 
echo of their singing running from side to side, was, he 
says, very solemn and striking. Weariness and sickness 
often oppressed him, yet he always found strength when 
the task faced him, and probably he ended feeling vigo- 
rous and well. He was already beginning to learn the 
curative properties of effort, and to trust for invigoration 
to what exhausted him. Then, too, there was popular 
sympathy on his side. He had but to take his stand any- 
where, and an audience was before him. When Xewsate 
was closed, and his sister's room, where he had been ac- 
customed to address a congregation as early as six o'clock 
on Sunday morning, could not accommodate a fourth of 
the people who came, some gentlemen gave him the use 
of a bowling-green ; and his first congregation in that 
novel church was five thousand. This was his first 
attempt at preaching in the open air early in the morning. 
Its success, and the kindness of friends who had come to 
his rescue, cheered and encouraged him ; his heart was 
full to breaking of grateful emotion. Sympathy, and, 
more and better than that, deep religious concern, dis- 
played themselves in a striking manner when he came to 
the bowling-green for his second service, which was only 
thirty-four hours after his first, and on a Monday after- 
noon. His hearers crowded the windows and balconies 



A GENTLEMAN OF THE OLDEN TIME. 



125 



of the adjoining houses as well as occupied the green, and 
great was their excitement when the preacher's heart 
flowed forth in fervent prayer for them, and his tongue 
began to enlarge on a theme which never failed to com- 
mand all his powers — the love and free grace of Jesus 
Christ. 

Pressed by repeated invitations, he next presented him- 
self in a very different part of the city, where many dwelt 
who neither feared God nor regarded man, and preached 
to thousands in a yard of the glass-houses, declaring both 
the threatenings and promises of the Almighty, so that 
none might either presume or despair. 

At this service Whitefield was called upon to show his 
wisdom and firmness in managing the unruly mob which 
he had called together. While he was preaching, he heard 
the holloaing which only an English crowd can raise 
when excited ; and thinking that it came from some 
troublers, he gave no heed to it, but went on, depending 
on the strength of his voice, the importance of his subject, 
and the blessing of God, to hold his audience together, 
and win their hearts to truth. His sermon finished, he 
inquired about the noise, and was told that a drunk 
4 gentleman ' had taken the liberty to call him a dog, and 
to say that he ought to be whipped at the cart's tail, at 
the same time offering money to anyone who would pelt 
him. The hint was at once taken ; only, to the 8 gentle- 
man's ' surprise, the boys and people near him, thinking 
that it would be better justice to pelt the drunkard than the 
preacher, poured a shower of stones and dirt on him. On 
hearing the story Whitefield condemned the behaviour of 
his champions in strong terms, and finished with a moral 
drawn from the 4 gentleman's ' experience — 4 What sorry 
wages the devil gives his servants.' 

His courage and tact were sometimes severely tried, 
but more at Bath than Bristol, by the scoffing which he 
heard as he passed through the crowd, and by the 



126 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 

laughter which greeted him when he mounted a table 
for his pulpit. The merriment never lasted long ; for 
that true love and unusual zeal which carried him to 
such congregations bore him strongly and patiently on 
with his work, and it was not in human nature to con- 
tinue trifling with one so superior to the passions of his 
audience. Whoever came to annoy must either submit 
to the spell which soon caught the most of the audience, 
and stay, either a willing or an unwilling hearer, or go 
away disappointed of his sport. To the last we shall 
find that Whitefield was never beaten, hazardous and 
questionable as some of his efforts afterwards were. His 
convictions on the power of preaching, penned after he 
had hushed and awed a jeering crowd at Bath, give in 
part the secret of his confidence : ' Men may say what 
they please, but there is something in this foolishness of 
preaching which, when attended with a Divine energy, 
will make the most stubborn heart bend or break. " Is 
not my word like fire, saith the Lord, and like a hammer 
that breaketh the rock in pieces ? '"" 

The picture of his life at Bristol would not be com- 
plete without some mention of his kind and fraternal 
intercourse with Quakers, which may be said to have 
begun in that city. The fiery, vehement, weeping clergy- 
man had as great attractions for them as for any body of 
men, and he was often invited to enjoy their hospitality. 
Always willing to hear what good men had to say for 
their particular views, he discussed with them their 
arguments for discarding all outward signs, for omitting 
baptism and the Lord's Supper, for denying an outward 
call to the ministry, and for insisting so much upon an 
inward life, and told them that he thought their omis- 
sions were not satisfactory, while their positive view, the 
holding to an inward life, placed religion too much in 
the non-use of externals. He thought it was good that 
they should desire an internal Christ ; but, for his part, he 



THE QUAKERS. 



127 



wanted an external Christ as well ; so marvellously did 
lie fail, on account of the scholastic way in which he had 
been taught to look upon theological truth, to apprehend 
the true oneness between much of his own teaching and 
theirs. When he preached he insisted as much as George 
Pox himself upon the necessity of having Christ in the 
heart, of being spiritually minded, of following a 4 Light 
which never was on sea or shore,' and of attaching more 
value to the hidden life of the soul than to the outward 
life of forms. He was almost a Quaker in an Anglican's 
gown. But when he chatted with the Quaker by the 
fireside, he was the gownsman of Oxford, jealous for his 
orders, his calling, and the sacraments that he had to 
administer. However, he cared little for the differences 
when he considered the sincerity and simplicity among 
his friends, thought that their catholic spirit was beau- 
tiful, and prayed God to keep him from extremes. 

The time when he must leave the city was near ; and 
that his work might not fall to the ground, or come to a 
stand after his departure, he again and again requested 
Wesley to come from London, and carry it on ; but 
Wesley could not be sure that he ought to go. His in- 
clination was not towards Bristol ; and, on 1 resorting to 
his practice of bibliomancy, many passages of Scripture 
had a sinister meaning. They were these, 4 Get thee up 
into this mountain ; and die in the mount whither thou 
goest up, and be gathered unto thy people.' 'And the 
children of Israel wept for Moses in the plains of Moab 
thirty days.' 4 1 will show him how great things he 
must suffer for my name's sake.' £ And devout men 
carried Stephen to his burial, and made great lamenta- 
tion over him.' His journey was next proposed to the 
society in Fetter Lane. Charles could not bear the 
mention of it ; but an appeal to a Bible, opened at hap- 
hazard, brought him under the power of these strong 
words : 4 Son of man, behold I take from thee the desire 



128 LIFE A3D TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



of thine eyes with a stroke : yet thou shalt not mourn or 
weep, neither shall thy tears run down ; ' and thinking 
that they were a voice from heaven, he held his peace. 
Still the brethren were not satisfied, and, to settle the 
difficulty, an appeal was made to the lot. This said he 
must go. Many wanted a divine confirmation of this 
supposed divine announcement, and the rest consenting to 
the suggestion, a Bible was opened thrice, and these were 
the Scriptures hit upon : 4 Now there was long Avar be- 
tween the house of Saul and the house of David ; but 
David waxed stronger and stronger, and the house of 
Saul waxed weaker and weaker.' ' "When wicked men 
have slain a righteous person in his own house upon his 
bed, shall I not now require his blood at your hands, 
and take you away from the earth ? ' 4 And Ahaz slept 
with his fathers, and they buried him in the city, even in 
Jerusalem.' 

The journal of Whitefield contains the following entry 
for Saturday, March 31: — 4 Went this morning and visited 
the poor man who was misused at the glass-houses. He 
seemed much concerned for what he had done, and con- 
fessed he knew not what he did ; upon which I took 
occasion to dissuade him from the sin of drunkenness, 
and parted from him very friendly. At eleven, I went 
and gave the prisoners a farewell private exhortation, 
and left orders concerning the distribution of the money 
that had been collected for them. At four. I preached 
as usual at the poor-house, where was a greater congre- 
gation than ever, and, at my return home. I was much 
refreshed with the sight of my honoured friend. Mr. John 
Wesley, whom I had desired to come hither, and whom 
I had now the pleasure of introducing to my friends, he 
having never before been at Bristol. Help him, Lord 
Jesus, to water what thy own right hand hath planted, 
for thy mercy's sake.' Wesley writes in his journal. 
4 Saturday, 31. In the evening, I reached Bristol, and 



WESLEY LEARNING OF WHITEFIELD. 



129 



met Mr. Whitefield there. I could scarce reconcile myself 
at first to this strange way of preaching in the fields, of 
which he set ine an example on Sunday ; having been all 
my life (till very lately) so tenacious of every point 
relating to decency and order, that I should have thought 
the saving of souls almost a sin, if it had not been done 
in a church.' The freer and more impetuous nature of 
Whitefield stands out in all distinctness from the states- 
manlike nature of the founder of Wesleyan Methodism, 
as the two friends begin the work of Sunday. Whitefield 
had seen, more by the instinct of his quick emotions 
than by the reasoning of his mind, the value of his irre- 
gular work, and already had its fruits approved it to him 
as acceptable to God ; and that day he went out con- 
fident and joyful, while Wesley was bewildered and half 
inclined to turn away. True to Iris cautious, practical 
mind, Wesley adopted field preaching only when he had 
seen its worth, just as he took up the class-meeting idea 
from others, and only consented to lay preaching because 
it had been started by men more headlong than himself, 
and then supported by the wisdom and piety of his 
mother, who warned him not to hinder a work of God. 
Others moved, he quickly followed ; and, if it was found 
practicable, passed on and took the lead. 

Whitefield took him the round of his work on 
April 1, and any heart less bold and less devoted than 
Wesley's must have quailed when he saw what was 
expected - of him. They began at the bowling-green 
with the usual Sunday morning service, which was at- 
tended by .a larger audience than ever. They went to 
Hannam Mount, where the colliers and others came in 
unusually great numbers. They passed on to Eose Green, 
and here the congregation was more enlarged than either 
of the other two. Twenty-four coaches and many horse- 
men mingled with the crowd, and though the wind was 
not so favourable as usual, 4 1 was strengthened,' White- 

k 



130 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



field says, 4 to cry aloud, and take my last farewell.' 
Prayers, blessings, and good wishes were showered on 
him as they returned to the city. At seven. Whitefield 
went to take his leave of one of the societies, and found 
the room and the way to it so crowded that he had to 
mount a ladder, and come at the door by climbing over 
the tiling of an adjoining house. 

The morning of the following day was spent in talking 
with those who came to take their leave, and tears were 
freely shed on both sides. Crowds were hanging about 
the door when he left, and a company of twenty friend- 
accompanied him out of the city on horseback ; and if he 
was leaving no small gifts behind, he also was carrying 
away a substantial gift of two hundred pounds for his 
orphan-house. 

He travelled by way of Kingswood ; for his collier 
friends, who had always been kind and hospitable, wanted 
to receive a last service at his hand, and to show him a 
last kindness. He says, 1 Having taken a most sorrowful 
leave, and passed through the people of Bristol, who 
poured out many blessings upon me. I came, about two. 
to Kingswood, where the colliers, unknown to me. had 
prepared an hospitable entertainment, and were very 
forward for me to lay the first stone of their school. At 
length I complied, and a man giving me a piece of ground, 
in case Mr. C. should refuse to grant them any, I laid a 
stone, and then kneeled down, and prayed God that the 
gates of hell might not prevail against our design. The 
colliers said a hearty Amen ; and after I had given them 
a word of exhortation suitable to the occasion. I took my 
leave, promising that I would come amongst them again, 
if ever God should bring me back from Georgia to 
England. Fiat! Fiat!' 

Whitefield had not been gone three hours from Bristol, 
when his friend Wesley submitted, as he says, to make 
himself more vile than he had been on the preceding day. 



whitefield's curate. 



131 



when he preached to one of the societies, by proclaiming 
in the highways the glad tidings of salvation to about 
three thousand people ; and, on the following Sunday, 
he stepped fearlessly into the severe path that White- 
field had shown him a week before. Within three weeks 
of Wesley's assuming the lead of the Methodist move- 
ment, scenes such as Whitefield's preaching had not yet 
created became common : some of the hearers were seized 
with fearful agony and cried out ; then they as suddenly 
shouted for joy. 

On April 9, Whitefield, after having paid a second visit 
to Wales, reached his native city. A great packet of 
letters awaited him, giving him an account of the success 
of the gospel in different parts ; and after reading them 
he writes in his journal, 6 God grant I may see some such 
fruit amongst my own countrymen.' His prayer was 
speedily answered. Twice he was permitted the use of 
St. Michael's, but some were offended at the greatness of 
the congregations, and others complained that business 
was hindered ; hence the clergyman was obliged to deny 
his pulpit for any more week-day services. He then re- 
sorted to the Boothall, the place where the judges sat, 
and to his brother's field ; and thousands came to hear 
him. Early friends who took an interest in him and his 
work must have been peculiarly gratified, both with his 
vast and extending influence, and with the humble 
manner in which he bore his successes ; and there was 
also one who had not been counted of that number, who 
had as much joy, perhaps more, than any of them. It 
was 4 old Cole,' the dissenting minister. Some one had 
told the old man of the smart saying of the youth of 
thirteen about stories in the pulpit, and when he heard 
Whitefield tell one in one of the city pulpits, he quietly 
remarked, 4 1 find that young Whitefield can now tell 
stories as well as old Cole.' He used to subscribe himself 
Whitefi eld's curate, and follow him in his excursions into 

K 2 



132 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



the country to preach after him. ' These are days of the 
Son of Man. indeed/ he would exclaim, as he followed up 
the younger man's work. He had an end beautifully in 
keeping with his zeal and the simplicity of his character. 
One evening, while preaching, he was struck with death ; 
he then asked for a chair to lean on till he concluded his 
sermon. That finished, they carried him upstairs, and he 
died. 1 blessed God,' exclaims Whitefield, when telling 
the story. ' if it be Thy holy will, may my exit be like 
his ! ' It was not unlike. 

Chafford, Painswick. Stroud. Stnnehouse^-where three 
thousand people waited for him in the rain, and not one 
of them moved away until the sermon was done, though 
it rained the whole time — and Orwell were places which 
he visited during his Gloucester trip. 

He performed a notable ceremony on the last morning 
of his stay. It was the baptism, by permission of the 
bishop, in St. Mary de Crypt, of a professed Quaker, of 
sixty years of age, who had become ' convinced of the 
necessity of being born acrain of water as well as of the 
Spirit.' The officiating clergyman not only exhorted the 
goodly number present, but took occasion to reflect, 
before the font where he himself was baptized, upon his 
frequent breaches of his baptismal vow. 

Passing through Cheltenham. Badsev. Evesham, and 
Bengeworth. and preaching in bowling-greens, in town- 
halls, and in fields, as he went, he came to Oxford. Here, 
through his going to exhort one of the societies, the vice- 
chancellor fell foul of him. The society had before been 
threatened, if they continued to meet for exhortation ; and 
when they all were upstairs, and on the point of bidding 
Whitefield good-bye before lie started for Tondon. the 
vice-chancellor sent fur him to come down. The vice- 
chancellor was in a passion, and demanded to know 
whether Whitefield had his name in any book there. 
1 Yes, sir." was the reply ; ' but I intend to take it out 



VICE-CHANCELLOR OF OXFORD. 133 

soon.' The vice-chancellor said, ' Yes ; and you had best 
take yourself out too, or otherwise I will lay you by the 
heels. What do you mean by going about, and alien- 
ating the people's affections from their proper pastors ? 
Your works are full of vanity and nonsense ; you pretend 
to inspiration. If you ever come again in this manner 
among these people, I will lay you first by the heels, and 
these shall follow.' Then he turned his back, and went 
away. Whitefield turned, and having prayed with his 
friends, set out for London. Letters from Savannah, 
containing good news, met him at Uxbridge, and made 
him desire an early departure to the people of his charge. 

His eleven weeks' labour in the country had kindled a 
fire which is not extinguished to this day. 



134 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



CHAPTER VII. 
May to August, 1739. 

IN MOORFIELDS ; ON COMMONS ; AT FAIRS AND RACES. 

Mr. Storehouse, vicar of Islington, was favourable to 
Methodism, but his churchwarden was of another mind. 
To which of the two posterity ought to feel the most 
grateful it would be hard to say — perhaps to the church- 
warden. As soon as Whiter] eld arrived in London, the 
vicar gave him the use of his pulpit for a week-day 
service. The churchwarden would dispute Whitefieid's 
light. In the midst of the prayers he entered the 
church, demanded Whitefieid's licence, and forbade his 
preaching without one. No licence was forthcoming, 
nor was the preacher sorry for that, though by being in 
priest's orders and holding the living of Savannah, which 
was in the diocese of London, he felt that he had legal 
standing ground. For peace sake he determined not to 
preach in the church. When the communion service 
was over he withdrew to the churchyard, and preached 
there, feeling assured that his Master now called him out 
in London, as well as in Bristol. In a letter, written to 
a friend that day, he said that his Master had, by His 
providence and Spirit, compelled him to preach in the 
churchyard at Islington. 6 To-morrow I am to repeat 
that mad trick, and on Sunday to go out into Moorfields. 
The word of the Lord runs and is glorified. People's 
hearts seem quite broken. God strengthens me exceed- 
ingly. I preach till I sweat through and through.' He 
evidently was well satisfied with being driven to adopt 



FIRST SERMON IN MOORF1ELDS. 



135 



his country practices, or he would not have announced 
his intention to preach at Moorfields on the second day 
after his expulsion, or withdrawal, whichever it may be 
called, from Islington Church. 

The news of his going to Moorfields soon spread 
through the city ; and many, on hearing it, said that if he 
ventured into that domain of the rabble he would never 
come out alive. Moorfields, which had been the first 
brickyard of London, next the exercise ground of the 
city archers, then the site of Bedlam, and afterwards the 
City Mall, where fashion took its daily stroll, had fallen 
into the possession of the roughest part of the population, 
simply by this part's presenting itself in the presence of 
fashion, and desiring to share, in its peculiar way, the 
shade of the trees and the smoothness of the paths. The 
partnership was quietly declined. To this place and to 
this people Whitefield felt himself called to take his 
message of love and peace. On Sunday morning, April 
29, an 4 exceeding great multitude ' assembled in the 
' fields ' to hear him ; but, to while away the time before 
his arrival, there was a little preliminary sport in break- 
ing to pieces a table which had been placed for his pulpit. 
In due time he drove up in a coach, accompanied by 
some friends, and, with one of them on either side, at- 
tempted to force his way to the place where the table 
ought to have been found. His bodyguard was soon 
detached from him, and he was left at the mercy of the 
congregation, which at once parted, and made an open 
way for him to the middle of the 4 fields,' and thence — 
for there was no pulpit there — to the wall which divided 
the upper and lower ' fields,' upon which he took his 
stand. It was a novel sight to the preacher — that mass 
of London rabble — as his eye ranged over it ; it was a 
more novel sight to the people — that young clergyman in 
gown, bands, and cassock, as he lifted himself up before 
them. His tall, graceful figure ; his manly and com- 



136 



LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEF1ELD. 



manding bearing ; his clear blue eyes, that melted with 
tenderness and kindness ; his raised hand, which called 
for attention — everything about him declared him a man 
who was capable of ruling them ; and they were willing 
to listen to him. When he spoke, and they heard his 
strong but sweet voice, exquisitely modulated to express 
the deepest, strongest passion, or the soberest instruction, 
or the most indignant remonstrance, they stood charmed 
and subdued. Then his message was so solemn and so 
gracious, something in which every one was interested 
both for time and eternity ; and he delivered it as if it 
were all real to him, as indeed it was ; as if he believed 
it and loved it, and wanted them also to accept it, as 
indeed he did. No scoffer durst raise his shout, no dis- 
turber durst meddle with his neighbour, as the thrilling 
text flew all around, every one hearing it, 4 Watch 
therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the hour in 
which the Son of Man cometh;' and as the preacher, 
with finger pointed upwards, cried, 4 There shall be a clay 
wherein these heavens shall be wrapt up like a scroll — 
the elements melt with fervent heat — this earth and all 
things therein be burnt up, and every soul of every 
nation summoned to appear before the dreadful tribunal 
of the righteous Judge of quick and dead, to receive 
rewards or punishments according to the deeds done in 
their bodies.' Quietness and attention reigned through all 
the host while, for perhaps an hour and a half, he spoke 
of the wise and the foolish virgins, and then — for he had 
a pleasant egotism, which for a moment turned men's 
minds to himself only to direct them onward to the Master 
■ — entreated them, with a last entreaty, not to reject his 
message because he was young. ' Oh ! do not turn a deaf 
ear to me,' he begged ; 4 do not reject the message on 
account of the meanness of the messenger ! I am a child, 
a youth of uncircumcised lips, but the Lord has chosen 
me, that the glory might be all His own. Had He sent 



FIRST SERMON IN MOOEFIELDS. 



137 



to invite you by a learned Rabbi, you might have been 
tempted to think the man had done something. But 
now God has sent a child that cannot speak, that the 
excellency of the power may be seen to be not of man, 
but of God. Let letter-learned Pharisees, then, despise 
my youth ; I care not how vile I appear in the sight of 
such men, I glory in it ; and I am persuaded, if any of 
you should be set upon your watch by this preaching, 
you will have no reason to repent that God sent a child 
to cry, " Behold ! the Bridegroom cometh ! " my 
brethren ! the thought of being instrumental in bringing 
some of you to glory fills me with fresh zeal. Once 
more, therefore, I entreat you — " Watch, watch and 
pray ; " for the Lord Jesus will receive all that call upon 
Him faithfully. Let that cry, " Behold ! the Bridegroom 
cometh ! " be continually sounding in your ears ; and 
begin now to live as though you were assured this was 
the night in which you were to be summoned to go forth 
to Him.' 

At five o'clock in the evening of the same day he 
met, on Kennington Common, an audience computed at 
twenty thousand, and of a higher class of people than he 
had addressed in the morning. The wind, which was 
favourable, carried his words to the farthest hearer ; the 
whole company listened with as much decorum as a 
congregation in a church, joined in the psalm and the 
Lord's prayer, and dispersed, evidently touched and 
moved by what they had heard. 

All his time was now devoted to preparation for the 
voyage to Georgia, and to open-air preaching. All went 
well between him and the Trustees, who received him 
with much 4 civility ; ' agreed to everything he asked ; 
and gave him a grant of five hundred acres of land, to 
him and his successors for ever, for the use of the orphan- 
house. The liberality of the Trustees was rivalled by 
that of the congregations at Moorfields and Kennington 



138 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEF1ELD. 



Common, for in nine days he collected from them almost 
two hundred pounds. The Common was his church on 
the Sunday evening and during the week, and at the 
close of the services he stood on the eminence from 
which he had preached, to receive the gifts of the people, 
w T ho crowded to him from below. Moorfields was his 
church on the Sunday morning, and, after his third service 
there, he collected fifty-two pounds, nineteen shillings and 
sixpence, more than twenty pounds of which was in half- 
pence. He declares that he was nearly weary of re- 
ceiving their mites, and that one man could not carry 
the load home. The evident emotion of the people while 
he preached, their awe, their silence, their tears, and the 
generosity with which, evening after evening, they re- 
sponded to his appeals for his orphan-house, showed 
that he had their faith and sympathy, and that his word 
was bringing forth fruit. Letters came telling him how 
useful his preaching had been to the writers ; and many 
persons waited on him to receive further private instruc- 
tion. He even says that he could mark an alteration for 
the better in the congregation at Kennington Common, 
which had from the first been exemplary. Xo doubt 
many came from anything but religious motives, as where 
is the congregation which is without the idle, the curious, 
the formal, the foolish, who do not come to be made any 
better, and who would be greatly startled if they were ? 
The second congregation at Moorfields, which was com- 
posed of about twenty thousand people, most likely had 
many sightseers ; and so, most likely, had the congrega- 
tion on the Common, on the evening of the same day — a 
congregation which was reckoned to consist of between 
thirty and forty thousand persons on foot, besides many 
horsemen, and about eighty coaches. The sight that 
evening was such as surprised even Whitefield, well accus- 
tomed as he had become to look down upon vast crowds. 
Quick, enterprising men, who perhaps would have had 



STRENGTH OF WHITEFIELD'S VOICE. 



139 



as much pleasure, if not a little more, in erecting stands 
on a racecourse, or stalls at a wake, saw that a sunshiny 
day for trade had come, and soon provided accommoda- 
tion in the shape of waggons, scaffolds, and other con- 
trivances ; and the audience gladly paid for it. There 
was a pew-rent and a collection at every service ; but 
with this advantage, that no official brought the collecting- 
box round, and no hearer was compelled to occupy a 
stand, or go without the privilege of hearing. 

It is said that the sinmncr of these congregations could 
be heard two miles off, and Whitefield's voice nearly a 
mile. 1 

Much as Whitefield felt the importance of his work, 
deeply persuaded as he was that God had called him to 
it, and encouraging as were the sympathy and help of 
the people, he was not able to throw off some sense of 
discomfort arising from his being an outcast from the 
sanctuaries and pulpits of his Church, and from his having 
to gather his money for the orphan -house in such an irre- 
gular way. Something of this feeling manifests itself in 
an entry in his journal, while he was in the first flush of 
his out-door popularity : c I doubt not,' he says, 4 but 
many self-righteous bigots, when they see me spreading 
out my hands to offer Jesus Christ freely to all, are ready 
to cry out, " How glorious did the Eev. Mr. Whitefield 
look to-day, when, neglecting the dignity of a clergyman, 
he stood venting his enthusiastic ravings in a gown and 
cassock upon a common, and collecting mites from the 
poor people." But if this is to be vile, Lord grant that I 
may be more vile. I know this foolishness of preaching 
is made instrumental to the conversion and edification of 
numbers. Ye scoffers, mock on ; I rejoice, yea, and will 

1 * It is recorded that -when preaching at Monimail, in Fife, in the open 
air, his (Iryings) sermon was heard distinctly by a lady seated at her own 
window a quarter of a mile off ; and his voice was audible, though not dis- 
tinctly, at double that distance.' — Oliphant's 'Life of Irving,' p. 265 (note). 



140 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



rejoice.' The intenseness of his feeling while writing 
those words was not the calm satisfaction of one who 
could afford to let others scoff or praise as they might 
please ; it was the struggle of a man who felt acutely the 
disadvantages of his new position, and who was deter- 
mined to accept them only because they were associated 
with duty and heavenly privilege ; there was a conflict 
between the flesh and the Spirit. 

It is not an unwelcome release to get disengaged from 
these eager, excited congregations, to follow the preacher, 
and mark how he attempted to fulfil the precepts he had 
publicly taught. He does not appear to disadvantage 
when seen nearer at hand. One day he received a letter 
dated from Bethlehem Hospital, No. 50, which read 
thus : — 

4 To the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, these. 

6 Dear Sir, — I have read your sermon upon the New Birth, 
and hope I shall always have a due sense of my dear Eedeemer's 
goodness to me, that He has so infinitely extended His mercy 
to me, which sense be pleased to confirm in me by your prayers ; 
and may Almighty Grod bless and preserve you, and prosper 
your ministerial function. I wish, sir, I could have some ex- 
planatory notes upon the New Testament, to enlighten the 
darkness of my understanding, to make me capable of becom- 
ing* a good soldier of Jesus Christ ; but, above all, should be 
glad to see you. 

4 1 am, dear sir, yours affectionately, with my whole heart, 

4 Joseph Peeiam.' 

Periam was supposed to be mad, but in a new way; he 
was 4 Methodically mad ; ' and his tender relations, father 
and sister, had sent him to Bethlehem Hospital, until the 
fit should leave him. The officials of the hospital treated 
him, on his reception, with the gross cruelty which one- 
while was practised towards all who were of weak mind. 
They thought he ought to have a huge dose of physic, 
but Periam, knowing that he was quite w^ell, declined it, 



JOSEPH PERIAM. 



141 



when four or five attendants ' took hold of him, cursed 
him most heartily, put a key into his mouth, threw him 
upon the bed, and said (though Wbitefield had not then 
either seen him or heard of him), 44 You are one of 
Whitefield's gang," and so drenched him.' Orders were 
given that neither Wbitefield, nor any of Whitefield's 
friends, should see him ; but Whitefield and his friend 
Seward were both admitted, when, in answer to Periam's 
request, they went to the hospital. They thought him 
sound, both in body and mind. His sister was of a dif- 
ferent opinion, and cited three symptoms of his madness. 
First, that he fasted for near a fortnight. Secondly, that 
he prayed so as to be heard four story high. Thirdly, 
that he had sold his clothes, and given them to the poor. 
The fact is, he was a literalist. In his first religious 
anxiety, reading one day about the young man whom 
our Lord commanded to sell all, and give it to the poor, 
he thought that the words must be taken literally — so he 
sold his clothes, and gave the money to the poor. If 
poor Periam was mad for his close adhesion to the letter, 
it would take a large asylum to hold those who have his 
poor wits without his honest conscience. 

A second letter came to Whitefield ; it contained a 
string of queries:— 

£ Query 1. If repentance does not include a cessation from sin, 
and turning to virtue ; and though, notwithstanding, I want that 
deep contrition mentioned by some divines, yet as I live not 
wilfully in any known sin, and firmly believe the gospel of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, may I not thereby be entitled to the benefits 
of Christ's death and resurrection, in the perseverance of know- 
ledge, and practice of my duty ? 

4 Query 2. If I am in prison, whether I may not, without 
offence to Grod, make use of endeavours to be discharged, by 
which I may be enabled to get into a pious Christian family, 
and consequently be grounded and firmly settled in the love of 
Grod, it being my desire ; for I am surrounded by nothing but 
profaneness and wickedness ? 



142 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WH1TEFIELD. 



4 Query 3. If my objections to being imprisoned are incon- 
sistent or wicked, which are, that I am obliged to submit to the 
rules of the house, in going to my cell at seven or eight of the 
clock at night, and not let out till six or seven in the morning, 
by which I am debarred the use of candle, and consequently 
books ; so that all that time, except what is spent in prayer 
and meditation, is lost ; which exercises, though good, are, by 
so constant repetition, and for want of change, deadened ? 

4 Query 4. If I should, by the goodness of God, be discharged, 
whether I may, without offence to the gospel of Jesus Christ, 
follow the business of an attorney-at-law, to which I was put 
as a clerk ; and by a conscientious discharge of my duty, be 
thereby entitled to a heavenly inheritance ; my fear on this 
point arising from our Lord's advice about going to law, 
Matthew v. 40 ? 

4 Query 5. If I cannot be discharged by proper application 
(which application pray be pleased to let me have), how can I 
best spend my time to the glory of Gfod, myself, and brethren's 
welfare ? And please to give me rules for the same. 

6 Worthy Sir, — These questions, whether momentary or not, 
I leave to your judgment. If you think they deserve an 
answer, should be glad to have them solved ; for as I am sen- 
sible of the power of my adversary the devil, surely I cannot 
but act with the utmost circumspection, which gives me occa- 
sion to trouble you herewith ; and I hope, sir, the circumstance 
of the place I am in, may excuse the manner in which I have 
wrote to you, and count it not an affront ; for God is witness 
how I love and esteem the ministers of Jesus Christ, for whose 
dear sake may the God of infinite love and goodness establish 
and confirm you in the daily success of your ministerial labours, 
which are the daily prayers of 

4 Your most unworthy, but faithful humble servant, 

6 Joseph Periam. 

' Bethlehem, No. 50. 
' May 5, 1739.' 

4 PS. I am afraid, sir, I misbehaved myself when you so 
kindly came to see me ; but if I did in any measure, your 
Christian love and charity will excuse it ; for not being warned 



JOSEPH PERI AM. 



143 



of your coming, the surprise, though pleasant, so fluttered my 
spirits that I was overburdened with joy. 
6 how pleased should I be to see you ! ' 

Whitefield replied as follows : — 

'May 7, 1739. 

6 Dear Sir, — The way to salvation is by Jesus Christ, who is 
the way, the truth, and the life. The way to Christ is by faith. 
"Whosoever liveth and believeth in me," says our Lord, 
"though he were dead, yet shall he live." But this faith, if 
it is a saving faith, will work by love. Come then to Jesus 
Christ as a poor sinner, and He will make you a rich saint. 
This, I think, serves as an answer to your first query. 

4 It is no doubt your duty, whilst you are in the house, to 
submit to the rules of it ; but then you may use all lawful 
means to get yourself out. I have just now been with your 
sister, and will see what can be done further. " Watch and 
pray." 

6 1 am, dear sir, your affectionate friend and servant, 

4 Cr. w: 

A day or two after, Whitefield received a third letter : — 

4 Worthy Sir, — I received your letter, which was a full 
answer to my queries, and give you my hearty thanks for the 
trouble you have taken upon you (the only gratitude I can at 
present pay ; but He whom I have perfectly at heart will supply 
the deficiency to you, and will not suffer a meritorious act to 
go unrewarded). Oh, how do I daily experience the love of 
Christ towards me, who am so vile, base, and unworthy ! I 
pray God I may always be thankful, and both ready to do and 
suffer His most gracious will, which I trust, through your 
prayers and (rod's grace, I shall at all times submit to. 

4 My father was with me last night, when I showed him your 
letter. He was pleased to say he thought me not mad, but 
very well in my senses, and would take me out, on condition 
Dr. Monro and the Committee were of his opinions. Then he 
varied again, and thought it convenient for me to stay the 
summer, and so to take physic twice a week, fearing a relapse. 
I told him, as a father, he should be wholly obeyed ; but when 
at parting he mentioned my leaving religion (or words to that 



144 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WH1TEFIELD. 



purpose, at which I was somewhat stirred in my spirit), I told 
him nothing should prevail upon me to leave Jesus Christ ; 
upon which he left me. This is the substance of what passed 
between us, which I hope is not amiss to let you know of, as 
you have been so kind as to plead for my liberty. 

4 Upon the whole of the matter, sir, God gives me perfect 
resignation, and I trust, when He shall see fit, will discharge 
me : and as I find His love daily more and more shed abroad 
in my heart, all things will work together for my good. Pray, 
sir, be thankful for me, and if opportunity will let you, I should 
be sincerely glad to see you before you set out for America. 
And may Almighty God, in His infinite goodness, prosper, 
guide, and protect you through this transitory life, and here- 
after receive you triumjDhantly into the heavenly Jerusalem, 
there to converse with and see the ever-blessed Jesus, that 
dear Lamb of God, to which that you may attain are the hearty 
and fervent wishes of 

6 Your loving and sincere friend, 

4 Joseph Periam. 

' Wednesday, May 9, 1739.' 

He adds a postscript, which is as touching for its feeling 
as the letter is amusing for its grave simplicity, 4 1 am 
ashamed to trouble you thus, but my heart is full.' It 
must have been that short line which so deeply touched 
Whitefield with a fellow-feeling of the poor man's 
misery, that he asked and prevailed on Mr. Seward and 
two other friends to wait upon the Committee. 4 Alas ! ' 
exclaims Whitefield. ' the Committee esteemed my friends 
as much mad as the young man, and frankly told them 
both I and my followers, in their opinion, were really 
beside themselves.' Mr. Seward attempted to rebut this 
charge, and seriously instanced the examples of the young 
persons who called the prophet that was sent to anoint 
Jehu king a mad fellow ; of our Lord, whom His own 
relations, and the Scribes and Pharisees took to be mad, 
and beside Himself ; and Festus' opinion of St. Paul. He 
next remarked that young people, when they are under 



JOSEPH PERIAM. 



145 



first religious impressions, are usually tempted by the 
' devil into some extremes. This only confirmed the 
Committee in the opinion that the speaker was a fit sub- 
ject for the treatment of their 4 hospital' And as to the 
madness of Periam, how could that be denied when one 
of the attendants came forward to testify that, on his 
first admission to the place, he stripped himself to the 
shirt and prayed ? History does not say which of these 
two vagaries — the stripping or the praying — was held to 
be the surest sign of madness ; but, at any rate, it is 
evident that the Committee had read neither the ' Lives 
of the Saints,' in which the barest sinners are the holiest 
saints, nor the Acts of the Apostles, in which praying is 
occasionally mentioned. But Periam, who always had a 
good literal reason for everything he did, said that he 
had dispensed with clothes in order to inure himself to 
the hardships of his new home — a cold place without 
windows and above a damp cellar — a very contrast to 
Bethnal Green, where he had been taken care of ! He 
wanted to endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus 
Christ ! Fortunately for every one concerned, the word 
Georgia was dropped in the midst of the discussion ; the 
Committee would engage that his father should give leave 
for his release, if Whitefield would take him there. The 
father, when waited upon, gave his son an excellent 
character — much as some masters do when they want to 
get rid of a servant — and consented to his going abroad. 
The doctor, when waited upon, pronounced him well. 
The Committee saw him, and also thought him well, and 
gave him a discharge. 

He went with Whitefield to America, and married one 
of the orphan-house mistresses. After a few years both 
of them died, and two of their sons, very promising boys, 
became inmates of the institution. 

The ship ' Elizabeth,' in which Whitefield had taken 

L 



14G LIFE AND TKAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



berths for himself and eleven others, was detained by an 
embargo until August, and during the odd weeks thus 
accidentally thrown into his hands he laboured with 
tremendous energy, and abundantly fulfilled the animated 
charge which Charles Wesley addressed to him in the 
following verses : — 

6 Brother in Christ, and well-beloved, 
Attend, and add thy prayer to mine ; 
As Aaron called, yet inly moved, 
To minister in things divine. 

Faithful, and often owned of God, 

Vessel of grace, hy Jesus used ; 
Stir up the gift on thee bestowed, 

The gift by hallowed hands transfused. 1 

Fully thy heavenly mission prove, 

And make thy own election sure ; 
Booted in faith, and hope, and love, 

Active to work, and firm t'endure. 

Scorn to contend with flesh and blood, 

And trample on so mean a foe ; 
By stronger fiends in vain withstood, 

Dauntless to nobler conquests go. 

(to where the darkest tempest lowers, 
Thy foes' triumphant wrestler foil ; 

Thrones, principalities, and powers, 
Engage, o'ercome, and take the spoil. 

The weapons of thy warfare take, 

With truth and meekness armed ride on ; 

Mighty, through Grod, hell's kingdom shake, 
Satan's strongholds, through Grod, pull down. 

1 It is not strange to come upon so strong a statement concerning sacra- 
mental efficacy, in the poem of a man who was such a high churchman that 
he made careful arrangements to be buried in consecrated ground : but, alas 
for human ignorance ! that piece of St. Mary-le-Bone churchyard in which 
he is laid is said to be the only piece not consecrated. 



DR. DODDRIDGE. 



147 



Humble each vain, aspiring boast ; 

Intensely for God's glory burn ; 
Strongly declare the sinner lost ; 

Self-righteousness o'erturn, o'erturn. 

Tear the bright idol from his shrine, 

Nor suffer him on earth to dwell, 
T' usurp the place of blood divine, 

But chase him to his native hell. 

Be all into subjection brought, 

The pride of man let faith abase ; 
And captivate his every thought, 

And force him to be saved by grace.' 

Not to follow him step by step, we may still single out 
some experiences which will illustrate his own mode of 
action, the spirit that impelled him, the opposition he 
met with, and the encouragements that cheered him. It 
was at Northampton, the third place at which he stayed 
for preaching on one of his short excursions from London, 
that he met with the pious, able, and accomplished Dr. 
Doddridge, who was striving with unwearied industry to 
keep the lamps of learning and religion burning among 
the Dissenters. The doctor, whose attention to those 
4 forms of civility and complaisance which are usual 
among well-bred people ' is duly noted by his bio- 
grapher, received Whitefield most courteously — perhaps 
more courteously than joyfully, for some of his brethren 
were not so well inclined as himself to the new sect, and 
in due time sent him 6 several angry letters,' reproaching 
him for his 6 civility.' to the Methodist leaders. At any 
rate, the chapel pulpit was not offered, and Whitefield 
had to take his stand at the starting-post on the common. 

Bedford had a clergyman, the Eev. Mr. Eogers, who 
had adopted Whitefield's plan of open-air preaching ; his 
pulpit was the steps of a windmill ; and there Whitefield 
preached to three thousand people. Good news came to 

j. 2 



148 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



him from Scotland. Ebenezer Erskine, the father of 
United Presbyterianism, wrote to say that he had preached 
to fourteen thousand people. Yet Whitefield was ill at 
ease, even when other ministers were moving in the patli 
he had chosen. The great need of the country called 
for more help, and he prayed, * Lord, do Thou spirit up 
more of my dear friends and fellow-labourers to go out 
into the highways and hedges, to compel poor sinners to 
come in. Amen.' His soul was also stirred within him 
to testifv £ against those vile teachers' — 4 so he calls them 
— ' and only those, who say we are not now to receive 
the Holy Ghost, and who count the doctrine of the new 
birth enthusiasm. Out of your own mouths I will con- 
demn you. you blind guides. Did you not, at the time 
of ordination, tell the bishop that you were inwardly 
moved by the Holy Ghost, to take upon you the ad- 
ministration of the church? Surely, at that time, you 
acted the crime of Ananias and Sapphira over again. 
" Surely," says Bishop Burnet, " you lied not only unto man, 
but unto God." ' These words might have had reference 
to a pastoral letter written about this time by the Bishop 
of London, on ' Lukewarnmess and Enthusiasm." in which 
the people of London and Westminster were specially 
warned against the enthusiast. George Whitefield ; but 
from the * civil ' reception which the bishop gave him 
two days after he penned them. I infer that there was 
peace thus far. But count \\liitefleld wrong, or count 
him right, in assailing other clergymen, the heart warms 
to him as he is seen going out, sick and weak, to preach 
in the rain or the sunshine : his eves overt! owine with 
tears, while to his weeping congregations he explains his 
favourite doctrines of the new birth and justification by 
faith ; his heart so moved when he gets upon the love 
and free grace of Jesus Christ, that, though an hour and 
a half has passed by. he would fain continue till midnight. 
A hint from him to the congregation at Moorfields, that 



WHITEFIELD AND WESLEY AT ELACKHEATH. 149 



he must soon leave the country, makes it weep as for a 
brother, and ejaculations and prayers for him are poured 
out on every side. The numbers who flocked to hear 
him increased, and at Kennington Common one Sunday 
their weeping was so loud as almost to drown his voice. 

In the early part of June he preached mostly at 
Blendon, Bexley, and Blackheath ; and had great enjoy- 
ment in the fellowship of many friends (among whom 
was the vicar of Bexley), who were of the same mind as 
himself. It was on a Thursday evening that ; he intro- 
duced.' he says. ' his honoured and reverend friend, Mr. 
John Wesley, to preach at Blackheath.' Wesley says in 
his journal. ' 1 went with Mr. Whiten eld to Blackheath, 
where were, I believe, twelve or fourteen thousand 
people. He a little surprised me. by desiring me to 
preach in his stead ; which I did (though nature recoiled) 
on my favourite subject, Jesus Christ, who of God is 
made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and 
redemption." I was greatly moved with compassion for 
the rich that were there, to whom I made a particular 
application. Some of them seemed to attend, while others 
drove away their coaches from so uncouth a preacher.' 
Whitefield continues in his journal, ' The Lord give him 
ten thousand times more success than He has given me ! 

o 

After sermon we spent the evening most agreeably to- 
gether, with many Christian friends, at the Green Man. 
About ten we admitted all to come that would. The 
room was- soon filled. I exhorted and prayed for near 
an hour, and then went to bed, rejoicing that another 
fresh inroad was made upon Satan's territories, by Mr. 
Wesley's following me in field preaching in London as 
well as in Bristol. Lord, speak the word, and great shall 
the company of such preachers be. Amen. Amen.' 

Towards the end of the month his enemies devised a 
new scheme for hindering him. Whenever he journeyed 
reports were circulated that he was wounded, or killed, 



150 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITE FIELD. 



or had died suddenly. Coming to Blackheath one even- 
ing, after an excursion into the country, he found, not his 
usual twenty thousand, but one thousand, and the rest 
had stayed at home because of a report that he was dead. 
Wherever he went he found the people much surprised 
and rejoiced to see him alive. Another blow fell on him 
at the same time. His friend, the Vicar of Bexley, was 
forbidden to allow him his pulpit. That night he 
preached on Blackheath to as large a congregation as 
ever from the text, ' And they cast him out,' and recom- 
mended the people to prepare for a gathering storm. 

That storm was what he had been expecting for some 
time, yet not always for any good reason ; indeed, his let- 
ters read as if he courted persecution, and saw signs of it 
where there were none. His excited mind thought that 
the glory of apostolical times was not returned unless, 
along with apostolical preaching, and labours, and suc- 
cesses, there were also prisons and chains for a reward. 
4 Perhaps,' he writes in April, ' you may hear of your 
friend's (his own) imprisonment. I expect no other pre- 
ferment. God grant I may behave so, that, when I suffer, 
it may not be for any imprudences, but for righteousness' 
sake ; and then I am sure the spirit of Christ and of glory 
will rest on me.' In May he sees less probability of 
imprisonment ; ' I am not fit as yet to be so highly 
honoured.' 

Matters were a little threatening when he visited 
Tewkesbury on July 2. He had created great excite- 
ment at Gloucester, at Eandwick, and at Hampton Com- 
mon. The bailiffs of Tewkesbury had raised much 
opposition to his coming thither also, and had him, on 
his arrival at his inn, attended by four constables. These 
were quickly sent off by a lawyer, a friend of Whitefield, 
who demanded their warrant, and found that they had 
none. Three thousand people attended an evening ser- 
vice outside the liberties of the town. 



THE BAILIFFS OF TEWKESBUKY. 



151 



The next morning he waited upon one of the bailiffs 
to ask his reason for sending the constables. The bailiff 
replied that it was the determination of the whole council, 
and that the people had been noisy, and reflected upon 
the bailiffs. ' The noise,' Whitefield answered, ' was owing 
to their sending the constables with their staves to appre- 
hend me when I should come into the town.' The bailiff 
retorted in anger, that a certain judge had declared his 
determination to take Whitefield up as a vagrant if he 
preached near him. 6 He is very welcome,' said White- 
field, ' to do as he pleases ; but I apprehend no magis- 
trate has power to stop my preaching, even in the streets, 
if I think proper.' 'No, sir,' said the bailiff; 'if you 
preach here to-morrow, you shall have the constable to 
attend you.' Whitefield went away, telling him first 
that he thought it his duty as a minister to inform him 
that magistrates were intended to be a terror to evil- 
doers, and not to those who do well ; he desired him to 
be as careful to appoint constables to attend at the next 
horse-race, balls, assemblies, &c. Whitefield and his 
friends then left for Evesham, where he met with sympa- 
thising friends, and a threat from the magistrates, that, if 
he preached within their liberties, they would apprehend 
him. Next morning, however, he did preach ; and the 
magistrates were quiet. Passing on to Per shore, he was 
kindly welcomed by the incumbent, and, apparently, 
from him procured the loan of a field in Tewkesbury ; 
then at five in the evening he turned, with a company 
of a hundred and twenty horsemen, towards Tewkes- 
bury, which he found much alarmed, people from all 
parts crowding the streets. He rode right through the 
town to the field, and preached to about six thousand 
hearers ; the bailiffs wisely refrained from keeping their 
threat, and no constable came within sight. Imme- 
diately after the sermon he took horse, and reached 
Gloucester near midnight. The exciting day's work had 



152 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

begun at seven o'clock at Evesham, and he was preach- 
ing next morning at ten, with a 4 heart full of love to Iris 
dear countrymen.' 

What trials he had were counterbalanced by the 
happy effects of his labours, visible in the places he 
had visited. Kingswood had put on a different appear- 
ance ; the colliers, who had formerly been the terror 
of the neighbourhood, were to be heard singing hymns 
in the woods, instead of pouring out blasphemy ; the 
school had been carried on so successfully by Wesley, 
that in July, when Whitefield visited the place, the roof 
was ready to be put up. Methodism was yielding its first 
fruits of purity, of honesty, of quietness, and of godliness, 
among the humbler classes. It would have been gratify- 
ing had any record been kept of particular cases, which 
might have served as examples of the rest. This, how- 
ever, is wanting, and we are mainly guided by general 
statements about the spirit and behaviour of the congre- 
gations where he had preached somewhat continuously. 
Curious hearers were dropping off, and the vast number 
that remained may be fairly supposed to have had a pro- 
found interest in what they heard. The numbers were 
countless who came after the services to ask for counsel 
as to how they might leave the i city of destruction,' 
which they had too long inhabited. One incident, related 
in the letter of a Quaker to Whitefield, may serve to 
show what thoughts were finding their way into humble 
homes throughout all the land. The old clerk at Bre- 
ferton could get no rest in his spirit, after hearing White- 
field preach at Badsey ; he set to work to compare what 
he had heard with the Church homilies and articles, and 
found a singular agreement between them. The landlord 
of Contercup, with whom he got into conversation upon 
the subject, informed him that he too had found White- 
field's doctrines set forth in some old books which he 
possessed, the refuse of a clergyman's library. This fact 



ADMONISHED BY BISHOP BEXSOX. 



153 



Was remembered when, shortly afterwards, the clerk, who 
was a tailor by trade, went to work at the landlord's ; he 
borrowed the last book that was left, all the rest having 
been lent ; and did not read above a page or two before 
• the truth broke in upon his soul like lightning.' His 
fino-ers itched for the book more than for his work, and 
he was allowed to take it home with him. A second of 
the books which he borrowed so strengthened him in his 
new faith, that he felt as if he could die for it. Always 
well esteemed before, he was now threatened by his 
neighbours with the loss of custom and livelihood. 

This wandering life which Whitefield was living, ac- 
ceptable as it was to the people (who on one occasion, at 
least, rung the bells and received him • as an angel of 
God'), and satisfactory to his own conscience, was viewed 
with much displeasure by others. Even Bishop Benson 
sent him an affectionate admonition to exercise the autho- 
rity he had received, in the manner it was given him. by 
preaching the gospel only to the congregation to which 
he was lawfully appointed. Whitefield replied within 
four days, and said — 

• My Lord, — I thank your lordship for your lordship's kind 
letter. My frequent removes from place to place prevented 
mv answering it sooner. I am greatlv obliged to your lord- 
ship in that you are pleased to watch over my soul, and to 
caution me against acting contrarvto the commission given me 
at ordination. But if the commission we then receive obliges 
us to preach nowhere but in that parish which is committed to 
our care, then all persons act contrary to their commission 
when they preach occasionally in any strange place ; and, con- 
sequently, your lordship equally offends when you preach out 
of your own diocese. 

£ As for inveighing against the clergy without a cause, I denv 
the charge. "What I say I am ready to make good whenever 
your lordship pleases. Let those that bring reports to your 
lordship about my preaching be brought face to face, and I 
am ready to give them an answer. St. Paul exhorts Timothy 



154 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WH1TEFIELD. 



" not to receive an accusation against an elder under two or 
three witnesses." And even Nicodemus could say, " the law 
suffered no man to be condemned unheard." I shall only add, 
that I hope your lordship will inspect into the lives of your 
other clergy, and censure them for being over-remiss, as much 
as you censure me for being over-righteous. It is their falling 
from their articles, and not preaching the truth as it is in 
Jesus, that has excited the present zeal of — whom they call in 
derision — "the Methodist preachers." Dr. Stebbing's sermon 
(for which I thank your lordship) confirms me more and more 
in my opinion, that I ought to be instant in season and out of 
season. For, to me, he seems to know no more of the true 
nature of regeneration than Nicodemus did when he came to 
Jesus by night. 

6 But the doctor and the rest of my reverend brethren are 
welcome to judge me as they please. Yet a little while, and 
we shall all appear before the Grreat Shepherd of our souls. 
There, there, my lord, shall it be determined who are His true 
ministers, and who are only wolves in sheep's clothing. Our 
Lord, I believe, will not be ashamed to confess us publicly in 
that day. I pray Grod we may all approve ourselves such faith- 
ful ministers of the New Testament, that we may be able to lift 
up our heads with boldness. 

6 As for declining the work in which I am engaged, my blood 
runs chill at the very thoughts of it. I am as much convinced 
it is my duty to act as I do, as that the sun shines at noon-day. 
I can foresee the consequences very well. They have already, 
in one sense, thrust us out of the synagogues. By and by 
they will think it is doing Grod service to kill us. But, my 
lord, if you and the rest of the bishops cast us out, our great 
and common Master will take us up. Though all men should 
deny us, yet will not He ; and however you may censure us as 
evildoers and disturbers of the peace, yet if we do suffer for 
our present way of acting, your lordship at the great day will 
find that we suffer only for righteousness' sake. In patience, 
therefore, do I possess- my soul. I willingly tarry the Lord's 
leisure. In the meanwhile, I shall continually bear your lord- 
ship's favours upon my heart, and endeavour to behave so as to 
subscribe myself, 

6 My lord, your lordship's obedient son, and obliged servant, 

4 GrEORGE WHITEFIELD.' 



THE MAYOR OF BASINGSTOKE. 



155 



So much excitement and such strong feeling had been 
raised, that it was not always commercially wise for inn- 
keepers to admit Whitefield to their houses ; and at 
Abingdon he was 4 genteelly told ' by one of them, that 
there was no room for him and his party. Matters were 
worse at Basingstoke the next evening. Whitefield had 
just thrown himself, languid and weary, upon the bed, 
when — to use his own odd expression — he was s refreshed 
with the news that the landlord would not let them stay 
under his roof.' Probably resentment was the occasion 
of the expulsion ; for one of the landlord's children had 
been touched by Whitefield's preaching the last time he 
visited Basingtoke. He and his friends went out, amid 
the mockery and gibing of the crowd, to seek for another 
inn ; and when they got one, the crowd amused itself by 
throwing fire rockets around the door. It was too late 
to preach, and Whitefield sought his own room : he had 
been there about an hour when the constable handed him 
this letter from the mayor : — 

4 Sir, — Being a civil magistrate in this town, I thought it my 
duty, for the preservation of peace, to forbid you, or at least 
dissuade you, from preaching here. If you persist in it, in all 
probability it may occasion a disturbance, which I think is 
your duty as a clergyman, as well as mine, to prevent. If any 
mischief should ensne (whatever pretence you may afterwards 
make in your own behalf), I am satisfied it will fall on your own 
head, being timely cautioned by me, who am, 

6 Sir, your most humble servant, 

s John Abbott. 

4 Basingstoke, July 19, 1739. 

fi PS. The legislature has wisely made laws for the preser- 
vation of the peace, therefore I hope no clergyman fives in 
defiance of them.' 

Whitefield immediately sent the following answer : — 

'Honoured Sir, — I thank yon for your kind letter, and I 
humbly hope a sense of your duty, not a fear of man, caused 



156 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

you to write it. If so, give me leave to remind you, honoured 
sir, as a clergyman, you ought to be a terror to evildoers, but 
a praise to them that do well. I know of no law against such 
meetings as mine. If any such law be existing, I believe you 
will think it your duty to apprise me of it, that I may not offend 
against it. If no law can be produced, as a clergyman, I think 
it my duty to inform you, that you ought to protect, and not 
anyways to discourage, or permit others to disturb, an assembly 
of people meeting together purely to worship God. To-morrow, 
I hear, there is to be an assembly of another nature ; be pleased 
to be as careful to have the public peace preserved at that, and 
to prevent profane cursing and swearing, and persons breaking 
the sixth commandment, by bruising each other's bodies by 
cudgelling and wrestling ; and if you do not this, I shall rise 
up against you at the great day, and be a swift witness against 
your partiality. 

e I am, honoured sir, your very humble servant, 

6 George Whitefield.' 

Whitefield followed his letter next morning, and had 
an interview with the mayor, which must have en- 
dangered his gravity much more than his temper. His 
object was to see this prohibitory law, but the mayor 
broke out — ' Sir, you sneered me in the letter you sent 
last night ; though I am a butcher, yet sir, I . . .' White- 
field interposed — ' I honour you as a magistrate, and only 
desire to know what law could be produced against my 
preaching : in my opinion there is none.' ' Sir,' said the 
mayor, 'you ought to preach in a church.' 'And so I 
would,' replied Whitefield, 6 if your minister would give 
me leave.' The mayor said, ' Sir, I believe you have 
some sinister ends in view : why do you go about making 
a disturbance ? ' More of the same sort followed, and 
the mayor, who found himself a poor match for the ready 
preacher, and had a fair to attend, cut short the interview 
by saying that he ' had wrote ' Whitefield another letter, 
which he would send him yet, if he pleased. Whitefield 



THE MAYOR OF BASINGSTOKE. 



157 



thanked him, paid him the respect clue to a magistrate, 
and took his leave. 

The letter which followed was very much in the 
' though-I-am-a-butcher ' style. It was this : — 

< Basingstoke, July 20, 1730. 

4 Eev. Sir, — I received your extraordinary letter, and could 
expect no other from so uncommon a genius. 

4 1 apprehend your meetings to be unlawful, having no tole- 
ration to protect you in it. My apprehensions of religion 
always was, and I hope always will be, that Grod is to be wor- 
shipped in places consecrated and set apart for His service, and 
not in brothels and places where all manner of debauchery 
may have been committed ; but how far this is consistent with 
your actions, I leave you to judge. 

4 As for the other assembly you are pleased to mention, 'tis 
contrary to my will, having never given my consent to it, nor 
approved of it, but discouraged it before your reverendship came 
to this town ; and if these cudgellers persist in it, I shall set 
them upon the same level with you, and think you all breakers 
of the public peace. You very well know there are penal laws 
against cursing and swearing, and I could wish there were the 
same against deceit and hypocrisy. Your appearing against 
me as a swift witness at the day of judgment is a most terrible 
thing, and may serve as a bugbear for children or people of 
weak minds ; but believe me, reverend sir, those disguises will 
have but little weight amongst men of common understanding. 

4 Yours, 

4 John Abbott. 

4 1 told you I had a letter wrote : I made bold to send it.' 

Whitefield replied in his most serious manner, and had 
less success than he would probably have gained had he 
tried, what he could so well use when he chose, humour 
and geniality. But he could not keep down his tre- 
mendous earnestness, or, rather, he could not bring into 
action along with it the lighter qualities which have their 
part to play in the intercourse of life. His soul was 



158 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 

absorbed in the one thought of winning the crowds for 
his Saviour. The crowds which were to assemble at the 
reyel the next day were resolved to have their coarse 
pleasures and sins ; nor do the authorities seem to have 
had any serious intention, except that of hindering the 
preacher, and sheltering them. There seems reason to 
believe that Whitefield had purposely come on the day 
of the revel, and if he did, his wisdom cannot be com- 
mended ; for the people had time to become exasperated 
before his arrival, and that conquering influence which he 
generally threw over his audiences had no fair chance to 
exert itself. Landlords, showmen, cudgellers, wrestlers, 
and their attendant rabble, were sure to be active on the 
side of their interests ; and thus the whole town had 
been set against him before he entered it. However, 
being resolved to sro on with his work, he w 7 ent at eight 
o'clock in the morning into a field to preach. One had 
said that he should never come out alive, and another 
that the drum should beat close by him, but nothing 
occurred to hinder him from speaking freely against 
revelling. Only in going to and from the field did he 
meet with any unpleasantness ; the rabble and the boys 
saluted him, and called him fc strange names.' 

He mounted to take his departure, but, ' as I passed by 
on horseback,' he says, £ I saw a stage ; and, as I rode 
further, I met divers coming to the revel ; which affected 
me so much, that I had no rest in my spirit. And there- 
fore, having asked counsel of God, and perceiving an 
unusual warmth and power enter into my soul, though I 
was gone above a mile, I could not bear to see so many 
dear souls, for whom Christ had died, ready to perish, 
and no minister or magistrate interpose. Upon this I 
told my dear fellow-travellers, that I was resolved to 
follow the example of Howel Harris in Wales, and to 
bear my testimony against such lying vanities ; let the 
consequences, as to my own private person, be what they 



CUDGELLED. 



159 



would. They immediately consenting, I rode back to 
town, got upon the stage erected for the wrestlers, and 
began to show them the error of their ways. Many 
seemed ready to hear what I had to say ; but one, more 
zealous than the rest for his master, and fearing con- 
viction every time I attempted to speak, set the boys on 
repeating their huzzahs. 

4 My soid, I perceived, was in a sweet frame, willing to 
be offered up, so that I might save some of those to 
whom 1 was about to speak ; but all in vain ! While I 
was on the stage, one struck me with his cudgel, which I 
received with the utmost love. At last, finding the devil 
would not permit them to give me audience, I got off; 
and after much pushing and thronging me, I got on my 
horse with unspeakable satisfaction within myself, that 
I had now begun to attack the devil in his strongest 
holds, and had borne my testimony against the detestable 
diversions of this generation.' 

There had been more danger in Basingstoke than he 
saw, and it was well that he went to an inn and not to a 
friend's house, as had been expected. A band of twelve 
ruffians had been lying in wait in that quarter of the 
town where he was expected to sleep, determined to give 
him 4 a secret blow and prevent his making disturbances ;' 
and one of them had the audacity to confess their inten- 
tion to a Quaker friend of Whitefield, J. Portsmouth, the 
day after Whitefield left the town. 

Nothing daunted by his late peril, full particulars of 
which were sent after him, he, within a week, made 
another experiment, almost as bold, which was more 
successful. He announced that he would preach at 
Hackney Marsh, on the day of a horserace, and ten 
thousand gathered around him, hardly any of whom left 
him for the race. Some who left returned very quickly, 
and to them he addressed a few words specially. 

Before any censure for rashness or recklessness is pro- 



160 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELB. 

nounced upon him for these efforts, it should be well 
understood that he did not boast of them ; that he did 
not covet notoriety ; and that he did not act without 
either prayer or consideration. He both feared that his 
faith might fail him before he went to Hackney Marsh, 
and entreated a friend to pray that his zeal might be 
tempered with knowledge. 4 It would grieve me,' he 
said, 6 should I bring sufferings causelesslv upon my- 
self 

His time in England was now very short. He must pay 
a farewell visit to each of his congregations, and reply to 
the Bishop of London, who had just made an attack upon 
him in a pastoral letter. At Kennington Common he 
preached from St. Paul's parting speech to the elders at 
Ephesus, and, as was certain to be the case, so moved 
the people's feelings that he could scarce make his appli- 
cation. His last sermon at Blackheath was of the same 
kind, and bad like effect ; his own heart was so full 
that he knew not when to leave off, and darkness was 
stealing over them as he said, Amen. It is almost need- 
less to say a word about the state of mind in which such 
labours were carried on. They bear their own testimony 
to secret joy and peace, to a clear hope of everlasting 
glory, and an unquestioning belief of the gospel ; they 
could come only from one who had much of the mind of 
Him who, 6 though He was rich, yet for our sakes became 
poor.' Yet one or two sentences from his letters well 
deserve to be linked to the story of his toils and suffer- 
ings. 4 As for my own soul, God mightily strengthens 
me in the inward man, and gives me often such foretastes 
of His love, that I am almost continually wishing to be 
dissolved that I may be with Christ. But I am only 
beginning to begin to be a Christian.' 'The harvest is 
very great. I am ashamed I can do no more for Him, 
who hath done so much for me ; not by way of retaliation, 
but gratitude. Fain would I love my Master, and will 



CONTROVERSY. 



161 



not go from Him ; His service is perfect freedom ; His 
yoke is easy, His burden light.' 

Controversy always attends deep religious movements, 
and, its abuses apart, it may be hailed as a blessing. It 
tempers the assumptions of the proud, gives clearness to 
the dim conceptions of both parties, and helps to hold the 
religious world in equipoise. Neither Whiter! eld nor his 
views were the worse for the assaults they sustained, any 
more than the formal party of the Church was damaged 
by the arousing calls which rung in their ears like the 
shout of the hosts of God. Methodist wildfire — for there 
was wildfire flashing in those strange congregations which 
assembled in Fetter Lane, on Kennington Common, and 
in Bristol — needed regulating and subduing, and bishops 
and clergy were soon at hand to help. 

The first shaft was shot at Whitefield soon after his 
arrival from Savannah, by a brother clergyman; but no 
notice was taken of it, except in one sentence in the 
journal, 'Thou shalt answer for me, Lord.' The 
Bishop of London next entered the lists, with a pastoral 
letter on 4 Lukewarmness and Enthusiasm.' The latter was 
evidently a greater sin in his eyes than the former ; and, 
but for the new enthusiasm, the old lukewarmness would 
probably have been allowed its ancient comfort and ease. 
The appeal addressed to it was not very arousing ; it was 
dignified, proper, and paternal, after the ecclesiastical 
fashion. To cope with the Methodists was more stimu- 
lating, and the bishop braced himself for his task as one 
who relished it. He opened his 4 Caution ' with a defi- 
nition of enthusiasm : 4 A strong persuasion on the mind 
of persons that they are guided, in an extraordinary 
manner, by immediate impressions and impulses of the 
Spirit of God. And this is owing chiefly to the want of 
distinguishing aright between the ordinary and extra- 
ordinary operations of the Holy Spirit.' Extraordinary 

M 



1G2 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD, 



operations were the miracles and speaking with tongue-, 
with which the Apostles were favoured as a witness to 
their mission and doctrine. Ordinary operations are — 
he does not say what ; but they are 4 not discernible 
otherwise than by their fruits and effects, as these appear 
in the lives of Christians.' He protests that the Church 
of England teaches the ' truth and reality of a regene- 
ration and new birth, and of the influence of the Holy 
Spirit in our Christian course,' and makes ample quota- 
tions from the Prayer Book to prove it. The key to his 
position is this sentence : 4 It is one thing to pray for the 
Spirit, and another thing to pray by the Spirit.' In 
general we may be sure that we have the Spirit to help 
us to live a godly life, but we may not call any single 
emotion, or conviction, or desire, the effect of His in- 
working. The first is humble, sound piety ; the second 
is dangerous enthusiasm. After discussing the subject 
generally, he culled from such parts of Whiten* eld's 
journal as were then published — the parts which have 
formed the principal foundation of this life up to the 
point we have reached — illustrations of eight danger- 
ous phases of the new teaching. ' God forbid,' he says, 
' that, in this profane and degenerate age, everything that 
has an appearance of piety and devotion should not be 
considered in the most favourable light that it is capable 
of. But, at the same time, it is surely very proper that 
men should be called upon for some reasonable evidences 
of a divine commission : 

4 1. When they tell us of extraordinary communications 
they have with God, and more than ordinary assurances 
of a special Presence with them. 

4 II. When they talk in the language of those who 
have a special and immediate mission from God. 

4 HI. When they profess to think and act under the 
immediate guidance of a divine inspiration. 



bishop Gibson's pastoral lettee. 



163 



'IV. When they speak of their preaching and ex- 
pounding, and the effects of them, as the sole work of a 
divine power. 

C V. When they boast of sudden and surprising effects 
as wrought bv the Holy Ghost, in consequence of their 
preaching. 

* YI. When they claim the spirit of prophecy. 

4 VJJL When they speak of themselves in the language 
and under the character of Apostles of Christ, and even 
of Christ Himself. 

• Yin. When they profess to plant and propagate a 
new gospel, as unknown to the generality of ministers 
and people in a Christian country.' 

' The Eev. Mr. Whitefield's answer ' appeared twelve 
days after the £ Pastoral Letter." It opens with some re- 
marks on the first part of the letter, which are feeble and 
wide of the mark, and would have been better omitted. 
He is strongest and safest on his own ground, and has 
little difficulty in defending positions which, in these 
days of subjective religious thought, would have been 
little questioned. He rejects, of course, the idea of 
having extraordinary operations of the Spirit in the work- 
ing of miracles, or the speaking with tongues ; but lays 
claim to the ordinary gifts and influences which still 
continue. He contends that he can know, by his own 
joy and peace and satisfaction in any particular work, 
whether the Holv Ghost is with him, graciously and 
effectually moving his heart ; that a general influence or 
operation of the Spirit must imply a particular operation ; 
that the Holy Ghost may direct and rule our hearts in 
the minutest circumstance. He claims for himself a 
divine commission in his work, and forces the bishop to 
sit upon one of two horns of a dilemma — deny the priest's 
divine commission, and thus his own divine right and 

M 2 



164 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



authority as bishop ; or contend for his own commission, 
and thus admit the validity of the priest's, who is or- 
dained by his hands. The charge of boasting that he 
spoke of his preaching and expounding, and the effects 
of them, as the sole work of a divine power, he rebuts 
by asking whether his lordship would have the preacher 
ascribe anything to himself? The fifth count agamst 
him gets an animated answer, which may well make 
any preacher of truth feel serious, 6 Where, my Lord, is 
the enthusiasm of such a pretension ? Has your lordship 
been a preacher in the Church of England for so many 
years, and have you never seen any sudden or surprising- 
effects consequent upon your lordship's preaching ? Was 
this my case, should I not have reason to doubt, my lord, 
whether I had any more than a bare human commission?' 
In the sixth count the bishop had laid his finger on a 
very weak place in Whitefield's creed ; nor can White- 
field do more than appeal to his own sincere persuasion 
that he is right. He had gone so far astray as to pro- 
phesy (for it was nothing short of that) in his journal, 
that there certainlv would be a fulfilling of those things 
which God by His Spirit had spoken to his soul ; that he 
should see greater things than these ; and that there were 
many promises to be fulfilled in him, many souls to be 
called, and many sufferings to be endured before he 
should go hence. In his answer he declares that God 
has in part fulfilled his hopes of success ; that his enemies 
are fulfilling his expectations of suffering ; and that some 
passages of scripture are so powerfully impressed upon 
his mind, that he really believes God will fulfil them in 
him in due time. Whitefield himself came to see that 
he was wrong in these views ; and he expunged most, if 
not all, the obnoxious passages from his revised journal, 
as well as declared his mistake frankly and fully. He 
also did the same thing with the grounds of the seventh 
count, which were a thoughtless use of scriptural Ian- 



4 METHODISM DISPLAYED.' 



165 



guage. But on the question of the last charge, which 
related principally to the doctrine of justification, he not 
only boldly announced Solifidianism, but adhered to it to 
the last. He was as impatient as Luther of any mention 
of good works in connection with justification. Works 
ought to come as the fruits and evidences of justification ; 
but were not, even in the most limited sense, to be called 
a condition of it. 

A host of pens became busy upon the contested points. 
Bate, the rector of St. Paul's, Deptford, answered White- 
field in 6 Methodism Displayed.' It contains but two 
things which can help to illustrate Whitefield's work and 
the kind of views entertained of him by a large section of 
society. It asserts that numbers of poor tradesmen daily 
left their families to starve, while they rambled after 
Whitefield from place to place ; and Bate asks whether 
he has ever rebuked any of them for doing so ; his ques- 
tion being intended to mean, that the practice existed, and 
was encouraged by the preacher's vainglory, who liked 
to see a crowd around him. That the practice of 
neglecting common duties for the sake of religious excite- 
ment did exist to some extent is no more than anyone 
might have expected ; but that it was so common as to 
be a crying reproach is only an enemy's falsity, and to 
whatever degree it prevailed, the fault was only with 
the hearers, who were often told by their faithful guide, 
that it was being righteous over-much to spend so 
much time in religious assemblies as to neglect family 
duties. 

6 Methodism Displayed ' contains the following com- 
plimentary comparison between the regular clergy and 
the new itinerant brethren : it is supposed to be part of a 
clergyman's address to his flock : — 4 You, my brethren, 
have the happiness of being baptized into the Christian 
faith ; and though you ought indeed to tremble with a 



166 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 

piteous awe for fear you tread awry, yet you are j$ot to 
think yourselves out of the path to heaven when you 
really are in it. And the way to keep in it is, not to 
forsake the altars of the living God to follow the bleating 
of Jeroboam's calves in Dan and in Bethel, but to keep 
constantly to your churches on Sundays ; there to hearken 
to the instructions, admonitions, and reproofs of your own 
parochial clergy (who are both able and willing to do 
their duty) ; and on those other six days, which God has 
given you chiefly for the work and business of this world, 
take care to behave yourselves in your several lawful 
callings with honesty, diligence, and sobriety.' 

An amusing, racy, and forcible reply to Bate came 
from the pen of Thomas Cumming, whom I suppose to 
have been a Quaker. 1 It must have been cheering to the 
small sect, who have always exalted the 4 inner light,' and 
defended its sufficiency to teach the things of salvation to 
all who will hear, to find itself represented in one of its 
chief beliefs by a young, ardent, bold, useful clergyman, 
who trusted, as did every Quaker preacher, to divine il- 
lumination and divine impulse. Cumming came to the 
defence of such a man and his teaching with right good 
will ; the 4 Answer ' was j ust the kind of letter he or any 
of his brethren might have penned, and he stood by it on 
every point. His pamphlet is soiled here' and there with 
phrases which once were only too common in controversy, 
while he supports the reputation of his sect for shrewdness 
and humour. To Bates's taunt that Whitefield must lay 
in a greater stock of letter-learning, or die an enthusiast, 
Cumming mockingly replies, ' And then what must become 
of him ? No doubt our rector would give over hopes of 

1 The tenor of his tractate is quite in harmony with the views of the 
Friends. He exults in showing the inefficiency of ' letter-learning,' in 
contending for the ability of illiterate men, when instructed by the Holy 
Ghost, to expound the lively oracles, and in pointing out the faults of paid 
priests. 



AN APPEAL. 



167 



ever seeing him in heaven along with him, and the rest 
of his letter-learned brethren ! ' 

In closing the journal which contains an account of his 
first open-air preaching, Whitefield made a tender appeal 
to others who might be constrained to do as he had done. 
He says, 6 1 cannot but shut up this part of my journal 
with a word or two of exhortation to my dear fellow- 
labourers, whosoever they are, whom God shall stir up 
to go forth into the highways and hedges, into the lanes 
and streets, to compel poor sinners to come in. Great 
things God has already done. For it is unknown how 
many have come to me under strong convictions of their 
fallen state, desiring to be awakened to a sense of sin, 
and giving thanks for the benefits God has imparted to 
them by the ministry of His word. my dear brethren ! 
have compassion on our dear Lord's Church, which He 
has purchased, with His own blood ; and let them not 
perish for lack of knowledge. If you are found faithful 
you must undergo persecution. Oh, arm people against 
a suffering time ; remind them again and again that our 
kingdom is not of this world, and that it does not become 
Christians to resist the powers that are ordained of God, 
but patiently to suffer for the truth's sake. Oh, let us 
strive together in our prayers, that we may fight the good 
fight of faith, that we may have that wisdom which 
cometh from above, and that we may never suffer for our 
own faults, but only for righteousness' sake : then will the 
Spirit of Christ and of glory rest upon our souls, and 
being made perfect by suffering here, we shall be qualified 
to reign eternally with Jesus Christ hereafter. Amen ! 
Amen ! ' 

Conscious of the difficulty of passing through popu- 
larity and applause without moral injury — and, by this 
time^ competing engravers were multiplying his portrait 
as fast as they could, and rival publishers were contending 



168 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

for his journals — anxious to subdue such pride and selfish- 
ness as still dwelt in him, longing to know himself better, 
and much worn down with the gigantic labours of the 
past seven months and a half, he went on board the 
6 Elizabeth,' saying, 6 Blessed be God ! I am much rejoiced 
at retiring from the world.' 



169 



CHAPTEE VIII. 
August, 1739, to March, 1741. 

THIRD VOYAGE — ITINERATING IN AMERICA FOURTH VOYAGE 

BREACH WITH WESLEY. 

6 My family,' as Whitefield called the eight men, one boy, 
two children, and his friend Mr. Seward, who accompanied 
him, had characters in it worth a passing notice, — Periam, 
the methodical madman, whom we know ; Seward, the 
rich layman ; and Gladman, a ship-captain, whom White- 
field got to know at the end of his last visit to Georgia. 
Seward was a gentleman of Evesham, thoroughly inspired 
with Methodist enthusiasm, who, to his wife's mortifica- 
tion, became Whitefield's companion in travel to help the 
good work. He was a Boswell in his admiration and 
fussiness ; and, but for his early death, would have pre- 
served many interesting facts which are now lost. Glad- 
man was a convert who followed Whitefield from a double 
motive — love to the man and love to his Master. Distress 
brought him under Whitefield's notice. His ship had 
been wrecked on a sand-bank near the Gulf of Florida. 
After ten days spent in that situation by him and his 
crew, they sighted a vessel, and hoisted a signal of dis- 
tress, which she answered. Gladman and part of his 
men pulled to her in a boat, and begged a passage for 
the whole number, which was promised them ; but, as soon 
as they put off for the sandbank, the vessel made sail, and 
left them. Thirty days more were spent in their confine- 
ment ; then they built a boat, into which he and five 
others stepped with the determination to make their 



170 



LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



escape or perish ; the rest were fearful of such a frail 
craft, and stayed behind. Boat and crew came safe to 
Tybee island, ten miles off Savannah, whither Gladman 
was brought, and where Whitefield invited him to break- 
fast. A deliverance so great prepared him to receive the 
kindly counsels which were given him over the breakfast 
table, and, as host and guest soon afterwards returned to 
England in the same vessel, Gladman became, through 
further instruction, a Christian of deep conviction and 
firm faith. Nothing would satisfy him but to return with 
Whitefield on his second voyage to Georgia. 

The versatile preacher, who was well gifted with abi- 
lity to become all things to all men, and to make himself 
contented in all places, had been on board ship but two 
days when he felt almost as forgetful of what he had 
passed through as if he had never been out in the world. 
Present duty was the only thing that ever pressed hard 
upon him ; past bitternesses he quickly forgot ; future 
troubles he left with God. He lived one day at a time, 
and lived it thoroughly. He framed regulations for his 
6 family,' instituted public prayer morning and evening, 
took to letter- writing and the reading of some very 
strongly- flavoured divinity ; and, at the same time, in- 
dulged his favourite gift and passion of exhorting every 
one around him to follow his Lord and Master. In this 
last mentioned work he had the occasional help of a 
Quaker, to whom he would now and again lend his 
cabin. The only grief was, that the Quaker was not 
explicit enough upon justification by faith, and upon the 
objective work of the Saviour ; for, much as Whitefield 
insisted upon the inward work of the Holy Ghost, his 
views of the mediatorial work of our Lord were objec- 
tive to the degree of grossness. But doctrinal questions 
by-and-by. 

Letter- writing was a great pastime of the Method- 
ists, yet none of them have written any letters worth 



LETTERS. 



171 



preserving, either for their literary merit, or their theo- 
logical grasp. All that was attempted was to comfort 
and cheer each other in the conflict with earth and hell ; 
and hence their letters abound in 4 experiences ; ' every 
doubt, every fear, every temptation is told, to another 
believer, who can understand its meaning, and give sym- 
pathy and the help of prayer. For all who have a desire 
to trace the wanderings of the human spirit, when it is 
driven into darkness and anguish by the strivings of the 
evil and the good which dwell within it, nothing can be 
more curious and entertaining than a batch of early 
Methodist letters. It was natural that minds similarly 
affected should commune in this way ; and for preachers, 
who by their very calling were unable to stay in any one 
place, it was especially natural to send exhortations and 
counsels to their converts, lest labour should be spent in 
vain. As at the beginning, so now, epistles followed ser- 
mons. But the work which was begun with zest some- 
times became a burden, and a hindrance to more useful 
effort. Cornelius Winter complained bitterly in his old 
age of the time los^ in writing letters, which might, if it 
had been devoted to reading, have yielded him more 
advantage, both mental and spiritual. Whiten" eld wrote 
sixty-five letters — none of them long, some of them mere 
notes — during his three months' voyage ; they were ad- 
dressed to converts who wanted encouragement, to back- 
sliders who wanted reproof, to students who wanted 
cheering in their espousal of the cause of Christ, to 
ministers who wanted words of brotherly love. A magis- 
trate, at Gloucester, gets a letter to tell him that for the 
future he must not show such partiality for balls, assem- 
blies, and wakes, and such prejudice against Methodist 
congregations ; and Periam's father is informed that his 
son is 4 diligent and pious, his mind settled and com- 
posed — a partaker, by reading the Bible, of that peace 
which the world cannot give.' The burden and the spirit 



172 



LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEF1ELD. 



are the same in all. 4 Show them,' he says to Howel 
Harris about his congregations, ' show them in the map 
of the word the kingdoms of the upper world, and the 
transcendent glories of them ; and assure them that all 
shall be theirs, if they believe on Jesus Christ with their 
whole hearts* Press on them to believe on Him imme- 
diately. Intersperse prayers with your exhortations, and 
thereby call down fire from heaven, even the fire of the 
Holy Ghost, 

" To soften, sweeten, and refine, 
And melt them into love." 

Speak every time, my dear brother, as if it was your last ; 
weep out, if possible, every argument, and, as it were, 
compel them to cry — " Behold how he loveth us!" ' He 
discovers, in one of them, the full extent of his mistake 
about impressions — 6 I have had great intimations from 
above concerning Georgia. Who knows but we may 
have a college of pious youths at Savannah ! I do not 
despair thereof. Professor Francks' undertaking in Ger- 
many has been much pressed upon my heart. I really 
believe that my present undertaking will succeed.' The 
school did succeed ; but the 6 great intimations ' were 
never fulfilled, and no college was ever built. As 
America is approached, he begins to show that greater 
things than building a college are shaping themselves in 
his mind, his world-wide work suggests itself ; and with 
his usual promptitude he writes to a friend — ' I intend 
resigning the parsonage of" Savannah. The orphan- 
house I can take care of, supposing I should be kept at 
a distance ; besides, when I have resigned the parish, I 
shall be more at liberty to take a tour round America, if 
God should ever call me to such a work. However, I 
determine nothing ; I wait on the Lord.' 

The voyage was useful both to his body and soul — to 
his soul, however, in a very distressing way. His journal 



WHITE FIELD AND BRAINERD. 



173 



from August to November is almost .as dismal and painful 
as the early parts of Brainerd's. 1 4 Tears were his meat 
day and night.' One extract will suffice to show what 
was his state of mind until towards the end of the vov- 
age : ' I underwent inexpressible . agonies of soul for two 
or three days at the remembrance of my sins, and the 
bitter consequences of them. Surely my sorrows were so 
great that, had not God in the midst of them comforted 
my soul, the load would have been insupportable ! All 
the while I was assured God had forgiven me ; but I 
could not forgive myself for sinning against so much light 
and love. Surely I felt something of that which Adam 
felt when turned out of Paradise ; David, when he was 
convicted of his adultery ; and Peter, when with oaths 
and curses he had thrice denied his Master. I then, if 
ever, did truly smite upon my ungrateful breast, and cry 
— God be merciful to me a sinner ! I ate but very little, 
and went mourning all the day long. At length my Lord 

1 ' Tuesday, October 26, 1742 (at West Suffield), underwent the most 
dreadful distresses under a sense of my own unworthiness ; it seemed to me 
I deserved rather to be driven out of the place than to have anybody treat 
me with any kindness, or come to hear me preach. And verily my spirits 
were so depressed at this time, as well as at many others, that it was im- 
possible I should treat immortal souls with faithfulness ; I could not deal 
closely and faithfully with them, I felt so infinitely vile in myself. Oh, 
what dust and ashes I am, to think of preaching the gospel to others ! . . . 
In the evening I went to the meeting-house, and it looked to me near as easy 
for one to rise out of the grave and preach as for me. However, God 
afforded me some life and power, both in prayer and sermon ; God was 
pleased to lift me up, and show me that He could enable me to preach.' 
Few, however, would shrink from such depression and consciousness of sin, 
if they might come out upon the sunny plains where Brainerd rested in his 
last days. 'Saturday, Sep. 19, 1747. — Near night, while I attempted to 
walk a little, my thoughts turned thus : How infinitely sweet it is to love 
God, and be all for Him ! Upon which it was suggested to me, you are 
not an angel, not lively and active. To which my whole soul immediately 
replied : I as sincerely desire to love and glorify God as any angel in 
heaven. ... I thought of dignity in heaven, but instantly the thought re- 
turned : I do not g'i to heaven to get honour, but to give all possible glory 
and praise. Oh, how I longed that God should be glorified on earth also ! ' 
— 1 Life of Brainerd,' by Jonathan Edwards. 



174 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WH1TEFIELD. 



looked upon me, and with that look broke my rocky 
heart, and floods of contrite tears gushed out before my 
whole family, and indeed I wept most bitterly. When 
in this condition I wondered not at Peter's running so 
slowly to the sepulchre, when loaded with the sense of 
his sin. Alas ! a consideration of aggravated guilt quite 
took off my chariot wheels, and I drove so exceeding 
heavily, that was I always to see myself such a sinner as 
I am, and as I did then, without seeing the Saviour of 
sinners, I should not so much as be able to look up. 
Lord, what is man ! ' 

The old Puritan theology, of which he had been a 
student from the time of his conversion, began, during 
this voyage, to affect his views in a very decided way. 
Until this time the broad, plain statements of Scripture 
had sufficed for a foundation for his teaching. The calls 
to repentance and faith, the assurances of pardon and 
eternal life for as many as will turn to God, the com- 
mandments binding every man to purity of heart and life, 
the simple declarations of the unspeakable love where- 
with the Saviour han loved us, and His power and willing- 
ness to help all who look to Him, constituted the message 
he had delighted to proclaim, and which, indeed, in spite 
of the views he was presently to embrace, he proclaimed 
to the last. Now he must have a system of theology ; 
he must hold with the free grace men, or with the pre- 
destinarians ; he must believe in freewill, or deny it ; he 
must accept the dogma of imputed righteousness, or reject 
it. A book written by Jonathan Warn, called ; The 
Church of England-Man turned Dissenter, and Armini- 
anism the Backdoor to Popery,' which contained extracts 
from ' The Preacher,' bv T)r. Edwards, of Cambridge, 
' strengthened him much.' He tells Harris that, since he 
saw him, God had been pleased to enlighten him more in 
that comfortable doctrine of election, and now their prin- 
ciples agree, as face answers to face in the water. When 



THEOLOGICAL VIEWS. 



175 



he returns to Wales he will be more explicit than he had 
been ; for, ' God forbid, my dear brother, that we should 
shun to declare the whole counsel of God.' His Calvinism 
was not (as it never is in the purest hearts) a cold system 
of divinity, but a strong persuasion that, only by the ac- 
ceptance of such dogmas, and an earnest proclamation of 
them, could the glory and the honour be given to the 
God of our salvation. Whitefield w T as won over to Puri- 
tanism by the truth which has been the salt of that system 
— man must in no sense be a saviour to himself ; he may 
watch and read and pray ; he may practise good works — 
the more the better ; he may — nay, he must — seek to per- 
fect holiness in the fear of God ; for every consideration 
of gratitude and love, every holy and tender tie which 
binds him to his Father in heaven, demands it ; but he 
must not say a word about these being conditions for the 
reception of any favour from above. All is retrospective ; 
all is of God. He ' provided ' — as the phrase is — a Saviour ; 
He also determined who should be saved by the Saviour. 
He gave His people to the Eedeemer, and the Eedeemer 
to His people, in a covenant that should never be broken. 
But for the centering of everything in God, Whitefield 
would have cared nothing for his favourite theories. So 
he exclaims in a letter to a brother clergyman : c I hope 
we shall catch fire from each other, and that there will be 
an holy emulation amongst us who shall most debase man 
and exalt the Lord Jesus. Nothing but the doctrines of 
the Reformation can do this. All others leave freewill in 
man, and make him, in part at least, a saviour to himself. 
My soul, come not near the secret of those who teach 
such things ; mine honour be not thou united to them. I 
know Christ is all in all. Man is nothing ; he hath a free- 
will to go to hell, but none to go to heaven, till God 
worketh in him to will and to do after His good pleasure. 
It is God must prevent, God must accompany, God must 
follow with His grace, or Jesus Christ will bleed in vain.' 



176 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



While he was plunging into Calvinism, and deter- 
mining to be more outspoken on the five points — hap- 
pily he was slow at fulfilling this purpose — another 
mind, not less resolute, not less bold, and much more 
acute than his own, was as swiftly and irrevocably rush- 
ing into the opposite system of Arminianism. A sepa- 
ration between himself and Wesley was already inevitable, 
if each adhered, as he was sure to do, to his own convic- 
tions. That determination 6 to speak out, and hide none 
of the counsel of God/ was an extension of a crack 
already made in the foundations of Methodism, which 
was to grow wider and longer for many a day to come, 
though never so wide that divided friends could not 
shake hands across it- 
Thankful for his voyage, and timid about facing the 
difficulties of public life on shore — the responsibility of 
preaching to large congregations, the temptations of popu- 
larity, and the opposition of such as differed from him — 
yet again joyful and fearless because he knew that many 
prayers were being offered for him, he landed at Lew T is 
Town, about one hundred and fifty miles from Phila- 
delphia. The ship's provisions had run out, as they used 
to do in those days, and the kind though tfulness of 
Whitefield's English friends, who had sent a good stock 
on board for him and his family, saved both crew and 
passengers from possible starvation, or a very lean 
dietary. 

White field, accompanied by his friend Seward, had a 
pleasant ride through the woods to the Quaker town, 
Philadelphia, which then numbered probably eleven or 
twelve thousand inhabitants, one-third of whom were 
Quakers (half the inhabitants of the state of Pennsylvania 
were of the same faith). It was a long, straggling place, 
the houses pleasantly built in the midst of orchards ; the 
market-place unpaved ; the stocks, the pillory, and the 
whipping-post still standing. The last-named instrument 



PHILADELPHIA. 



177 



of justice was in active operation, two women a month 
being whipped at it. Benjamin Franklin had his printing- 
office opposite the market-place, and within sight of the 
whipping-post. The i Pennsylvania Gazette' was rejoicing 
in great prosperity, through the shrewdness and industry 
of its famous proprietor and editor. 'Poor Richard's 
Almanac ' had but a few years before given its wit and 
wisdom to the good citizens for the sum of five-pence ; 
and now some are willing to give twenty dollars for a 
single number of it ! The people were quiet, peace- 
loving, tolerant, and not so intellectual as the Bostonians. 1 
Their desire to hear the great Methodist was intense ; 
for his immense fame had reached their town before 
him. 

Whitefield's first duty was to deliver some letters com- 
mitted to his charge, and then to go on board the * Eliza- 
beth, ? which had arrived the night before him, to see his 
family. He next paid his respects to the proprietor and 
the Commissary, who received him 'very civilly.' The 
day following, which was Sunday, he preached to a large 
congregation, and took part in other services. The 
churchwardens treated him better than their brethren in 
England had done : and the clergv of all denominations 
showed him great court esv. Feeling was so different from 
that which he had left behind him, that whereas in 
England the only proper place for a sermon was thought 
to be a church, in Philadelphia the people preferred 
hearing it elsewhere, and asked him to gratify their taste, 
which he was not slow to do. The Quakers were very 
friendly, and their fellowship cheered him not a little. 
The atmosphere all around was peaceful, and balmv with 
brotherly love. Aged Air. Tennent, who had an acadenrv 
for training pious youths for the ministry, about twenty 
miles from the city, and was himself blessed with four 
sons of Christian reputation and influence, three of whom 

1 Parton's 'Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin/ vol. i. part 2, chap. iii. 



178 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



were ministers, came into the city to speak to "him. The 
week's stay which he made was as quiet and agreeable as 
any he ever made in any place. All places of worship 
were open to him, all ministers favourable to him ; and, 
when he left the ordinary religious buildings to preach 
from the steps of the court-house to congregations which 
no building could hold, and which listened in solemn 
silence while the prolonged twilight of the late autumn 
days filled the sky, he must have felt an unusual joy in 
his work. Once when the night was far advanced, and 
lights were shining in the windows of most of the ad- 
joining houses, he felt as if he could preach all night ; 
and indeed, the night after, which was Saturday, the 
people, not feeling the pressure of a coming day's work, 
seemed so unwilling to go away after they had heard an 
hour's sermon, that he began to pray afresh, and after- 
wards they crowded his house to join in psalms and 
family prayer. 

Franklin was a constant and delighted hearer. Calm 
and self-controlled under most circumstances, his tempe- 
rament caught fire at the glowing words of Whitefield ; 
and if he did not become a convert to his views, he be- 
came an attached and life-long personal friend. It seems 
to have been during this visit that Whitefield triumphed 
so signally over Poor Eichard's prudence. The story 
is well known, but too good to be omitted here. White- 
field consulted Franklin about the orphan-house, for which 
he was still making collections wherever money could be 
obtained. Franklin approved the scheme, but urged that 
the house should be built in Philadelphia, and not in a 
colony which was thinly populated, where material and 
workmen were scarce, and which was not so prosperous 
as it had been. ^Unfortunately, Whitefield did not heed 
this sound counsel, but determined to follow his own 
plan ; this made Franklin decide not to subscribe. 4 I 
happened soon after,' he says, ' to attend one of his 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 



179 



sermons, in the course of which I perceived he intended 
to finish with a collection, and I silently resolved he 
should get nothing from me. I had in my pocket a 
handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, and 
five pistoles in gold. As he proceeded I began to soften, 
and concluded to give the copper. Another stroke of 
his oratory made me ashamed of that, and determined 
me to give the silver ; and he finished so admirably, that 
I emptied my pocket wholly into the collector's dish, gold 
and all ! At this sermon there was also one of our club, 
who, being of my sentiments respecting the building in 
Georgia, and suspecting a collection might be intended, 
had, by precaution, emptied his pockets before he came 
from home. Towards the conclusion of the discourse, how- 
ever, he felt a strong inclination to give, and applied to a 
neighbour who stood near him to lend him some money 
for the purpose. The request was made to perhaps the 
only man in the company who had the firmness not to 
be affected by the preacher. His answer was, " At any 
other time, friend Hopkinson, I would lend thee freely ; 
but not now, for thee seems to me to be out of thy right 
senses.'" Anecdotes seldom bear dates, and I can only 
fit some of those which are told of Whitefield into the 
right part of space, the right locality, not heeding the 
right year of time. Most probably it was near about 
the time of this visit, that the observant Franklin tried to 
find out how far the preacher could be heard, when one 
night he was preaching near Franklin's shop. He says, 
6 1 had the curiosity to learn how far he could be heard, 
by retiring backward down the street towards the river, 
and I found his voice distinct till I came near Front 
Street, when some noise in that street obscured it. Imaoin- 
ing then a semicircle, of which my distance should be 
the radius, and that it was filled with auditors, to each 
of whom I allowed two square feet, I computed that he 
might well be heard by more than thirty thousand. This 

H 2 



180 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



reconciled me to the newspaper accounts of his having 
preached to twenty-five thousand people in the fields, 
and to the history of generals haranguing whole armies, 
of which I had sometimes doubted.' 

It has been said that Whitefield's visit £ threw a horrid 
gloom ' over the town, and for a time put ' a stop to the 
dancing-schools, the assemblies, and every pleasant thing.' 
This judgment rests altogether on the assumption that, 
without dancing-schools, assemblies, and such 6 pleasant 
things,' life can only be gloomy, — a conclusion which is 
not borne out by the facts of life as we see it. And if 
the innocent town w T as so oppressed by the 4 terror- 
exciting ' preacher, it showed a strange pleasure in alwavs 
making him its welcome guest, and hanging upon his 
words. But the truth is, terror was not the power he 
wielded, but loving, urgent, yearning tenderness, which 
could not endure the thought of any man's perishing in 
his sins. Whatever fault may be found with some of his 
views — and they lie exposed on every side, unguarded 
by argument, unmasked by sophistry — it never can be 
honestly charged upon him that he pictured the torments 
of the great condemnation in flashy colours, or with 
morbid pleasure. His soul moved too much in the orbit 
of the Master's influence for that, and hence every allu- 
sion to the casting out was filled with a spirit which 
testified also of the joy of welcome. It is not meant that 
he was silent on the awful question of future punishment, 
for, seeing he believed in the generally accepted evan- 
gelical dogma, silence would in his case have been mental 
reservation, and his nature was too frank and too trans- 
parent to hold a doctrine without letting others know of 
it. All his beliefs had power over him, fashioning his 
character, and determining his ministry ; but his soul 
lived mostly on the radiant side of his creed, and from 
his visions of love, and peace, and joy, he went forth to 
tell what he had seen. The tone of his addresses would 



A PENITENT. 



181 



have been as congenial, in the main, to the minds of this 
generation as it was to the minds of that which heard 
him. It is not in man to turn a deaf ear to one who, 
after proving that future punishment will be eternal, cries 
out in the intenseness of his brotherly and Christ-like 
affection — ' But I can no more. These thoughts are too 
melancholy for me to dwell on, as well as for you to 
hear ; and God knows, as punishing is His strange work, 
so denouncing His threatening is mine.' And if the 
people of Philadelphia walked under a cloud while 
Whitefield enjoyed their free and generous hospitality, it 
was a cloud which ' burst in blessings on their head.' 
That silent night, when the houses all around the preach- 
ing-stand had lights in their windows, near which sat or 
stood some listener, was a night of penitence for one lost 
soul, of a class which used often to find their way to the 
4 Man of Sorrows,' but which seldom come now to any 
pastor. Next morning, before it was light, she came to 
Whitefield's house, and desired to join in prayer ; and 
when devotions were over, left the following letter with 
him : 6 Oh, what shall I say to express my thanks I owe 
to my good God, in and from you through Jesus Christ 
[for the good work] which you have been the instrument 
of beginning in my soul ; and if you have any regard to 
a poor, miserable, blind, and naked wretch, that's not only 
dust but sin, as I am confident you have, you will in 
nowise reject my humble request, which is that I, even 
I, may lay hold of this blessed opportunity of forsaking 
all, in order to persevere in a virtuous course of life.' 
The trembling, hoping penitent had not long been gone 
when the 6 terror-inspiring ' man was approached by a 
child of seven, who came to request him to take her to 
Georgia, as she had heard that he was willing to take 
little children with him ! 

Three months before his arrival at Philadelphia, a 
letter had come from Mr. Noble, of New York, who 



182 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OP GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 



wrote in his own name, and the name of many others, 
inviting him to that place ; a second letter came imme- 
diately after his arrival, repeating the request. He de- 
termined to go. Friends lent him and his party four 
horses ; and they rode on through the woods, stopping 
at Burlington and Trent Town, at which places he 
preached with great freedom, and Brunswick, where they 
met with Gilbert Tennent, an eccentric Presbyterian 
minister, who imitated the rude dress of the Baptist, and 
preached with terrible power. Nothing that Whitefield 
could say could surpass the fiery sarcasm and thunder- 
ing denunciation of Tennent ; indeed, Whitefield's sermons 
must have been like refreshing showers after a prairie 
fire, when he came into the neighbourhood of Tennent's 
labours. The stern preacher had deliverd his soul of a 
faithful message in the spring of this year on ' The 
Danger of an Unconverted Ministry,' and had printed 
it for an abiding testimony amongst the people. It was 
based upon the pathetic words of the Evangelist — 6 And 
Jesus, when he came out, saw much people, and was 
moved with compassion towards them, because they were 
as sheep not having a shepherd.' 

Tennent joined Whitefield's party, and rode off with 
them to New York, to join in the preaching campaign, 
tlie journey being shortened by each traveller's telling 
the rest what God had done for his soul. Mr. Noble 
received them ' most affectionately ;' and that night Ten- 
nent preached at the meeting-house, 6 but never before,' 
says Whitefield, 4 heard I such a searching sermon. He 
went to the bottom indeed, and did not daub with un- 
tempered mortar. He convinced me more and more 
that we can preach the gospel of Christ no further than 
we have experienced the power of it in our own heart. 
Being deeply convicted of sin, and driven from time to 
time off his false bottoms and dependencies by God's 
Holy Spirit at his first conversion, lie has learned expe- 



NEW YORK. 



183 



rimentally to dissect the heart of the natural man. Hypo- 
crites must either soon be converted or enraged at his 
preaching. He is a son of thunder, and I find doth not 
fear the faces of men.' 

New York was not so tolerant as Philadelphia. The 
Commissary denied Whitefield the use of his pulpit before 
it was even asked for, and angrily informed him that his 
assistance was not wanted. Whitefield replied, that 'if 
they preached the gospel he wished them good luck in 
the name of the Lord, and that, as the church had been 
denied without being asked for, he should preach in the 
fields, for all places were alike to him.' To the fields he 
went that afternoon, and though some seemed inclined 
to mock, they soon grew more serious. An attempt to 
get the town hall was unsuccessful ; but Pemberton, 
the Presbyterian minister, w 7 as glad to have him in his 
meeting-house, which was crowded night after night ; 
and some who had been profligate learned to look upon 
their past lives with shame. That Whitefield, along with 
his fine indignation at the unfaithfulness of unworthy 
men, who held the sacred office of pastor and teacher, 
and his ardent zeal to save all men, had a touch of cen- 
soriousness, and perhaps peremptoriness, this latter quality 
growing upon him as he got older, cannot be denied ; 
but his spirit must also have had rare reverence for age 
and goodness. He was no young upstart, who, thinking 
himself so much more competent to guide the people, 
delighted to treat old men and their views with neglect ; 
he never looks more dignified and manly than when, 
with respect in his manner and diffidence in his heart, he 
meets some aged Samuel, like old Mr. Tennent, or old 
Mr. Pemberton, and takes his place as a listener and 
learner. After leaving New York, his sensitive mind, 
which cherished the memory of the least kindness with 
fond faithfulness, became uneasy about some fancied 
want of humility in the presence of Mr. Pemberton, and 



184 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



he sought to make amends in a letter, which must have 
touched the good man's heart very deeply : — 

'Philadelphia, Nov. 28, 1739. 
6 Eev. and dear Sir, — I have been much concerned since I 
saw you, lest I behaved not with that humility toward you 
which is due from a babe to a father in Christ ; but you know, 
reverend sir, how difficult it is to meet with success and not be 
puffed up with it, and therefore, if any such thing was dis- 
cernible in my conduct, oh ! pity me, and pray to the Lord to 
heal my pride. All I can say is, that I desire to learn of Jesus 
Christ to be meek and lowly in heart ; but my corruptions are 
so strong and my employ so dangerous, that sometimes I 
am afraid. But wherefore do I fear ? He that hath given me 
Himself will He not freely give me all things ? By His help, 
then, I am resolved to ask till I receive, to seek till I find, and 
to knock till I know myself. Blessed be God ! I have had a 
sweet retirement to search out my spirit, and bewail the in- 
firmities of my public ministrations. Alas ! who can hope to be 
justified by his works? My preaching, praying, &c, are only 
splendida peccata. ... I am a child, and must be tutored and 
made meet by sufferings to be a partaker of the heavenly in- 
heritance with the saints in light.' 

A letter written to his mother, when he reached New 
York, will show his relation to the old home circle, and 
how constantly the one absorbing topic of salvation by 
Christ was on his pen and his tongue : — 

' New York, Nov. 16, 1739. 
£ Hon. Mother, — Last night, God brought me hither in health 
and safety. I must not omit informing you of it. Here is 
likely to be some opposition, and, consequently, a likelihood 
that some good will be done. New friends are raised up every 
day whithersoever we go ; the people of Philadelphia have 
used me most courteously, and many, I believe, have been 
pricked to the heart. God willing ! I leave this place next 
Monday, and in about a fortnight think to set out for Virginia 
by land. In about a twelvemonth I purpose returning to 
England : expect then to have the happiness of seeing me suffer 



THE TENNENTS. 



185 



for my Master's sake. Oh that God may enable you to rejoice 
in it ! If you have the spirit of Christ you will rejoice, if not, 
you will be sorrowful. Oh ! my honoured mother, my soul is in 
distress for you : flee, flee, I beseech you, to Jesus Christ by 
faith. Lay hold on Him, and do not let Him go. God hath 
given you convictions. Arise, arise, and never rest till they 
end in a sound conversion. Dare to deny yourself. My 
honoured mother, I beseech you, by the mercies of God in 
Christ Jesus, dare to take up your cross and follow Christ. 

' I am, honoured mother, your ever dutiful, though unworthy 
son, 

6 George Whitefield.' 

The preservation of this letter by his mother, and its 
publication after his death may, very properly, encourage 
the hope that mother and son were not separated in faith, 
and that his pleadings must have been as effectual for her 
as for others, though it remains one of the saddest mys- 
teries of this mysterious life, that parents and children 
are sometimes the most widely separated at a point where 
union is sweetest. 

The return of the party from New York was a preach- 
ing tour, under the direction of Tennent, who in due 
time brought them to Neshamini, where his father lived, 
and where Whitefield was announced to preach. It may 
serve to keep alive an interest in his feelings amidst his 
labours, to mention that, in the early part of the service, 
the three thousand people who were assembled to hear 
him seemed unaffected, that this caused him to 6 wrestle ' 
much for them in himself, and that at night he had to 
withdraw for a while from the delightful conversation of 
the circle of holy men, to recover in private his com- 
posure and joy. Then they talked together of what 
plans would be the best for promoting the kingdom of 
our Lord. The best plan, however, was already in ope- 
ration in that log-house which stood hard by, old Mr. 
Tennent's Academy^ 4 the College,' as it was contemptu- 



186 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

ously called by such as thought that learning could not 
be nursed in such rude quarters, whatever might become 
of any piety which sought its shelter. Seven or eight 
good men had just gone forth from it to their work ; more 
were almost ready to follow ; and a foundation was being 
laid for the instruction of many others. The minister 
whose soul was so hot about the 4 Pharisee-teachers ' who 
knew nothing of the new birth, had here a work which 
thoroughly commanded his heart. They all felt sure 
that it was right, Whitefield says, 4 The devil will cer- 
tainly rage against them ; but the work, I am persuaded, 
is of God, and therefore will not come to nought. Carnal 
ministers oppose them strongly ; and because people, 
when awakened by Mr. Tennent or his brethren, see 
through, and therefore leave their ministry, the poor 
gentlemen are loaded with contempt, and looked upon 
(as all faithful preachers will be) as persons that turn the 
world upside down. A notable war, I believe, is com- 
mencing between Michael and the dragon. We can 
easily guess who will prevail.' WhitefielcTs guesses proved 
better than his prophecies ; the dragon got the worst of 
it ; and out of the log-house, which the dauntless, vehe- 
ment, sarcastic Tennents built in faith, rose Princeton 
College. 

The doctrine of imputed righteousness was not satis- 
factory to everyone in Philadelphia. On Whitefleld's 
return to the city, one of its opposers took occasion to 
express his mind publicly in church after Whitefield had 
preached. He told the congregation, with a loud voice, 
that there was 4 no such term as imputed righteousness in 
Holy Scripture ; that such a doctrine put a stop to all 
goodness ; that we were to be judged for our good works 
and obedience ; and were commanded to do and live.' 
Whitefield denied his first proposition, and quoted a text 
to refute him ; but thinking the church an improper place 
for discussion, he let the matter drop until the afternoon, 



VISIT TO A HERMIT. 



187 



when he preached from the text, 4 The Lord our righteous- 
ness,' and discussed the whole question. This time he 
had the field to himself. 

His wandering life, the excitement which his presence 
always caused, and the curiosity of all to see and hear 
him, were sure to bring to his notice some of the oddest 
phases of life, and some of the saddest and tenderest too. 
One day he was taken to see an old hermit, who had 
lived a solitary life for forty years — a hermit, but not a 
misanthrope. The old man talked with much feeling of 
his inward trials, and when asked by Whitefield whether 
he had not many such in so close a retirement, he 
answered with pathos and beauty, 4 No wonder that a 
single tree which stands alone is more exposed to storms 
than one that grows among others.' He rejoiced to hear 
of what was being done in England, and kissed his visitor 
when they parted — the old man to continue solitary, the 
young man to live and think and feel, with the eyes of 
thousands on him daily. A little hitch in life might once 
have made the preacher the hermit ; for had not he also 
shunned human society, neglected all ordinary comforts, 
and wrestled with his troubles alone, as the single tree 
which has no fellows to shelter it contends with the 
storm ? 

The next day a German came to him as he was passing 
along the street, and said, 4 Thou didst sow some good 
seed yesterday in German Town, and a grain of it fell 
into my daughter's heart. She wants to speak with thee, 
that she may know what she must do to keep and in- 
crease it.' The daughter, who was standing hard by, 
came at her father's call, and both stood weeping while 
Whitefield exhorted to watchfulness and prayer and close- 
ness of fellowship with the Saviour. Wonderful gentle- 
ness and sympathy must have graced him whom repentant 
prodigals, little children, and women could approach 
without fear, and whom old men loved as a son. 



188 LTFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 



The good people of Philadelphia showed their appre- 
ciation of their visitor, not only by crowding to his ser- 
vices but by sending him presents for his family, which 
was to proceed to Savannah by sea while he went by 
land, preaching wherever" he could get a congregation. 
Butter, sugar, chocolate, pickles, cheese, and Hour came 
for the £ poor orphans.' A sloop that was lent him 
Seward bought, and named it ' Savannah ;' Gl adman was 
to be its captain, and a recent young convert offered him- 
self as mate. Society had been thoroughly awakened, 
both in New York and Philadelphia ; many of the 4 good 
sort of people had been unhinged,' said an opposer. 
Numbers of letters came to tell him how their writers 
had been led to consider his words. The printers were 
anxious for sermons, one of them having obtained two hun- 
dred subscriptions for printing his sermons and journals ; 
another said that he could have sold a thousand sermons 
if he had had them ; and, at the solicitation of his friends, 
he put two extempore ones — by which he probably means 
that they were written after delivery — into the printer's 
hands. The farewell sermon had to be preached in the 
open air, notwithstanding it was the end of November ; 
for no building could hold the congregation of ten thou- 
sand which stood listening for an hour and a half. The 
people were in great grief as, accompanied by twenty 
horse, he passed through their town and left them. 
Seven miles from the town another company of horsemen 
joined them, and the cavalcade enlarged until about a 
hundred and fifty horse attended him. Franklin's news- 
paper for that month contained the intelligence that, ' on 
Thursday last, the Eeverend Mr. Whitefielcl left this city, 
and was accompanied to Chester by about one hundred 
and fifty horse, and preached there to about seven thou- 
sand people. On Friday he preached twice at Willing's 
Town to about five thousand ; on Saturday, at Newcastle, 
.to about two thousand five hundred ; and the same even- 



BROAD SYMPATHY. 



189 



ing, at Christiana Bridge, to about three thousand; on 
Sunday, at White Clay Creek, he preached twice, resting 
about half an hour between the sermons, to about eight 
thousand, of whom three thousand, it is computed, came 
on horseback. It rained most of the time, and yet they 
stood in the open air.' 

Meanwhile his interest in other workers was not 
abated. His heart was in England with the Wesleys, in 
Wales with Harris, and in Scotland with the Erskines. 
A correspondence with the Scotch brothers was prepar- 
ing the way for a trip over the border some day. He 
writes to Ealph — Ealph was the gentle, sensitive, poetical 
brother ; Ebenezer, the bold, fearless, dignified one, who 
preached the truth in its majesty — 8 The cordial and tender 
love which I bear you will not permit me to neglect any 
opportunity of sending to you. I bless the Lord from my 
soul for raising you and several other burning and shining 
lights, to appear for Him in this midnight of the church. 
My heart has been warmed during my voyage, by read- 
ing some of your sermons, especially that preached before 
the Associate Presbytery. I long more and more to hear 
the rise and progress of your proceedings, and how far 
you would willingly carry the reformation of the Church 
of Scotland. There are some expressions which I suppose 
will be interpreted to your disadvantage, both by your 
domestic and foreign enemies. I should be <zlad to know 
who are those martyrs to which you refer, and of what 
nature those covenants were which you mention in your 
sermon. My ignorance of the constitution of the Scotch 
Church is the cause of my writing after this manner. I 
should be obliged to you, if you would be pleased to re- 
commend to me some useful books, especially such which 
open the holy sacrament ; for in God's law is my delight. 
''Boston's Fourfold State of Man," I like exceedingly. 
Under God it has been of much service to my soul. I 
believe I agree with you and him in the essential truths 



190 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

of Christianity. I bless God His Spirit has convinced me 
of our eternal election by the Father through the Son, of 
our free justification through faith in His blood, of our 
sanctincation as the consequence of that, and of our final 
perseverance and glorification as the result of all. These, 
I arn persuaded, God has joined together ; these neither 
men nor devils shall ever be able to put asunder. My 
only scruple at present is, " whether you approve of 
taking the sword in defence of your religious rights?" 
One of our English bishops, I remember, when I was with 
him, called you Cameronians. They, I think, took up 
arms, which I think to be contrary to the spirit of Jesus 
Christ and His apostles. Some few passages in your 
sermon before the Presbytery, I thought, were a little 
suspicious of favouring that principle. I pray God your 
next may inform me that I am mistaken ; for when zeal 
carries us to such a length, I think it ceases to be zeal 
according to knowledge. Dearest sir, be not angry at 
my writing thus freely.' 

Another difficulty, besides the question of appealing to 
arms to decide religious belief, stood in the way of a 
union between the English priest and the Scotch presby- 
ter's. The latter held the divinity of their form of church 
government and the sacredness of their ordination in so 
exclusive a way as practically to excommunicate a minister 
of any other church. Whitefield refers to this in another 
letter to the same friend. He says, 4 1 think I have but 
one objection against your proceedings — your insisting 
only on Presbyterian government, exclusive of all other 
ways of worshipping God. Will not this, dear sir, neces- 
sarily lead you (whenever you get the upper hand) to 
oppose and persecute all that differ from you in their 
church government, or outward way of worshipping 
God ? Our dear brother and fellow-labourer Mr. Gilbert 
Tennent thinks this will be the consequence, and said he 
would write to you about it. As for my own part 



IN THE WILDERNESS 



191 



(though I profess myself a member of the Church of 
England), I am of a catholic spirit ; and if I see a man 
who loves the Lord Jesus in sincerity, I am not very 
solicitous to what outward communion he belongs.' His 
fears about opposition, if not about persecution, proved 
only too true ; he himself was to get no small share of it. 
The denominational spirit and the spirit catholic clashed 
as soon as ever they met. 

To get again upon his track southwards. Once away 
from Whiteley Creek and William Tennent's hospitality, 
he had a ride through forest, swamp, and partially cleared 
country, seeing and sharing in the life of the sparse popu- 
lation which lay scattered along his route. Gentlemen 
were as glad to show kindness to travellers, where few 
human beings were to be seen, as travellers were to re- 
ceive it ; and thus the private house — generally that of a 
military man — was as often the resting-place for the night 
as the tavern. But taverns were a welcome lodo;e, though 
noisy guests might sleep in the next room, or the bed be 
made in the kitchen ; for sometimes the way was dangerous 
enough to gratify anybody with a Eobinson Crusoe nature 
— the evening wolves would come out and howl like a 
kennel of hounds round the travellers. Odd meetings 
with people who had some connexion with the old 
country, and whose talk could pleasantly recall the past, 
now and again happened. One day it was 'with a Welsh 
family, which had been at Cardiff when he preached there ; 
and another day it was with two Oxford contemporaries, 
who had come out to manage one of the new colleges 
which were beginning to spring up, to foster learning by 
the side of labour. The congregations were like every- 
thing else; now a handful of forty, now a hundred in 
place of the usual twenty, now the family whose hospi- 
tality was being enjoyed, and now a stray visitor who 
came in nobody knew how, and in every case the JSTegroes 
of the house were got together. The great work was 



192 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



never forgotten, never neglected, never despised ; the 
preacher would talk earnestly and persuasively to one 
when he could not get more. 

The account of crossing the Potomac — a name now 
familiar to the ear through 6 the army of the Potomac,' 
which played so conspicuous a part in the war between 
ISTorth and South — helps one to realise the condition of the 
whole laud through which they were passing. 4 Potomac/ 
Whitefield says, 4 is a river which parts the two pro- 
vinces, Maryland and Virginia. It is six miles broad. We 
attempted to go over it ; but, after we had rowed about 
a mile, the wind blew so violently, and night was coming 
on so fast, that we were obliged to go back and lie at the 
person's house who kept the ferry, where they brought 
out such things as they had.' These creeks and rivers 
formed no slight difficulty and danger; and, on one occa- 
sion, Whitefield's physical cowardice kept him in a constant 
tremble while his horse struggled with the rushing water, 
swimming with him from bank to bank. Christmas Day 
was spent very pleasantly at Xewborn Town ; public 
worship was attended, the sacrament was received, a 
congregation was gathered to hear the word, and heard 
it with tears ; the hostess provided a Christmas dinner, 
and would take no fare from the traveller when he 
offered it. Xew Year's Day was spent in riding ; and at 
sunset a tavern was reached, which stood just within 
South Carolina ; but another kind of visitor than a parson, 
and especially a Methodist parson, would have been more 
welcome when the house had a goodly company of neigh- 
bours who had come together for a dance! Such a 
company, however, must have a word of exhortation. 
So the preacher stepped in among them, and all was 
silence while he discoursed on baptism, and the necessity 
of being born again, in order to enjoy the kingdom of 
heaven. The words took so much effect that he was 
asked to baptize a child of the house. At break of day 



IN THE FOREST. 



193 



he started again, having first spoken a final word to the 
dancers. The morning proved as delightful as the night 
was to prove disagreeable. For twenty miles the tra- 
vellers rode along the shore of a beautiful bay. as level 
as a terrace walk, the porpoises that were enjoying their 
pastime making sport for them all the way. Whitefield's 
heart ' rejoiced to hear shore resounding to shore, across 
the noble expanse, the praise of Him who hath set bounds 
to the sea that it cannot pass. Then they rode into the 
forest, and had to take their chance among the roads and 
by-roads. As night came on the moon was too beclouded 
to show them where the by-paths led from the main road, 
and thus the path to a house where they purposed seek- 
ing lodgings was missed. There was nothing for it but 
to push on till some resting-place could be reached, and 
they had not gone far before they saw a light. Two of 
them went up towards it, and saw a hut full of Negroes, 
of whom they inquired about the gentleman's house to 
which they had been directed. The Negroes seemed sur- 
prised, and said that they were but new comers, and knew 
no such man. This made one of the more timid hearts 
infer that these Negroes might be some of a company 
which had made an insurrection in the province, and had 
run away from their masters. All the rest adopted his 
suspicion, and therefore thought it best to mend their 
pace. Soon another great fire was seen near the road- 
side, and the travellers, imagining that there was a second 
nest of rebels, made a circuit into the woods, and one of 
them observed Negroes dancing round the fire. The 
moon now shone out clearly, and they soon found their 
way again into the main road, along which they rode for 
twelve miles, expecting at every step to come upon more 
fires and more Negroes, when they had the good fortune 
to see a large plantation, the master of which gave them 
lodging and their beasts provender. ' Upon our relating 
the circumstances of our travels,' says Whitefield, 4 he 

o 



194 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 

gave us satisfaction about the Negroes, informed us whose 
they w^ere, and upon what occasion they were in those 
places in which we found them.' Then comes a sentence 
which takes all the flavour out of the story. 4 This af- 
forded us much comfort after we had rode near three- 
score miles, and, as we thought, in great perils of our 
lives.' Two short days more and a morning carried him 
safe into Charles Town (abbreviations in names had not 
begun at this time, and Charleston was still called by its 
full name), and a ride of seven hundred and fifty miles 
was over. 

His absence from Charles Town had not been long, but 
still sufficiently so to allow of changes. He himself was 
changed into a field preacher ; and, in consequence of this, 
Commissary Garden, who, on the preceding visit to Ame- 
rica, had promised to defend him with life and fortune, 
was changed into a cold friend and then a hot enemy. 

The devoted friend was absent from home, and his 
curate had no commission to lend the pulpit. Still it 
was pleasant to get near civilisation again. Letters and 
papers were received, informing him of the success of 
God's work in New York ; the English papers told the 
same good news of home ; and if the Commissary had 
shut the English church against him, and absented him- 
self, there w r as the Independent meeting-house open to 
him, and its minister and several gentlemen very kindly 
disposed tow T ards him. The congregation in the meeting- 
house was large and 6 very polite,' rivalling in affected 
finery and gaiety of dress the court end of London, — a 
circumstance which looked ill in Whitefield's eyes, who 
remembered ' such divine judgments ' as had lately been 
sent abroad among them. He did not forget to reprove 
them for it ; but he seemed to them as one that mocked. 
However., there was more feeling underneath 6 the light, 
airy, unthinking manner ' in which they left than he had 
supposed, and next morning he found them desirous to 



CHARLESTON. 



195 



hear him a second time. He consented ; and the French 
Church was crowded with a reverent congregation, many 
of whom were melted into tears, and departed with 
' concern in their faces.' Again he was importuned to 
preach ; again he consented ; and. after half-an-hour's 
notice, a large congregation was assembled in the meeting- 
house. His quick and powerful word soon changed gaiety 
into seriousness, and made a whole town attend to the 
things of God. 

The rest of the distance to Savannah was performed by 
water, in an open canoe, steered and rowed by rive Xegro 
slaves. 4 The poor slaves,'" he says, ' were very civil, dili- 
gent, and laborious.' The first night they slept on the 
water, and the second on the shore, with a large fire to 
keep away wild beasts. At noon on the second day they 
reached Savannah, and had a joyful meeting with the 
' family." which had been there three weeks. He looks 
more like a settled family man during the three months 
after his arrival, than during any other part of his life. 
The huge congregations, which would not allow of five 
minutes* leisure with him, are left behind ; so too is the 
anger of opponents. The poor orphans are around him, 
and his humane heart thinks and feels for them with un- 
wearied tenderness, as if they were the lambs of his own 
home. He busies himself about them daily, and watches 
the progress of the work which is to make them as good 
a home as they can have, now that the dear old places 
are silent and lonely, without father or mother. He will 
be a father to them all : he will feed and clothe them : 
instruct them and pray over them. On the second morning 
after his arrival he went to see a tract of land, consisting 
of five hundred acres, which Habersham, whom he had 
left schoolmaster of Savannah when he returned to 
England, had chosen as the site of the orphanage. * The 
land,' he says, * is situated on the northern part of the 
colony, about ten miles off Savannah, and has various 



196 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 



kinds of soil in it ; a part of it very good. Some acres, 
through the diligence of my friends, are cleared. He has 
also stocked it with cattle and poultry. He has begun the 
fence, and built a hut ; all which will greatly forward the 
work. I choose to have it so far off the town because 
the children will then be more free from bad examples, 
and can more conveniently go upon their lands to work ; 
for it is my design to have each of the children taught to 
labour, so as to be qualified to get their own living. 
Lord, do Thou teach and excite them to labour also for 
that meat which endure th to everlasting life. Thursday, 
January 24. — Went this morning and took possession of 
my lot. I hope it is cast in a fair ground, and God, in 
answer to our prayers, will show that He has given us a 
goodly heritage. I called it Bethesda, that is, the house 
of mercy ; for I hope many acts of mercy will be shown 
there, and that many will thereby be stirred up to praise 
the Lord, as a God whose mercy endureth for ever. 
Tuesday, January 29. — Took in three German orphans, 
the most pitiful objects, I think, that I ever saw. No new 
Negroes could possibly look more despicable, or require 
more pains to instruct them. Was all the money I have 
collected to be spent in freeing these three children from 
slavery, it would be well laid out. I have also in my 
house near twenty more, who, in all probability, if not 
taken in, would be as ignorant of God and Christ, compa- 
ratively speaking, as the Indians. Blessed be God they 
begin to live in order. Continue this and all other 
blessings to them, for Thy infinite mercy's sake, Lord, 
my strength and my Eedeemer. Wednesday, January 30. 
—Went this day with the carpenter and surveyor, and 
laid out the ground wdiereon the orphan-house is to be 
built. It is to be sixty feet long and forty wide ; a yard 
and garden before and behind. The foundation is to be 
brick, and is to be sunk four feet within, and raised three 
feet above the ground. The house is to be two story 



ORPHANS. 



197 



high with a hip roof ; the first ten, the second nine feet 
high. In all there will be nearly twenty commodious 
rooms. Behind are to be two small houses, the one for 
an infirmary, the other for 'a workhouse. There is also to 
be a still-house for the apothecary ; and I trust, ere my 
return to England, I shall see the children and family 
quite settled in it. I find it will be an expensive work ; 
but it is for the Lord Christ. He will take care to defray 
all charges. The money that will be spent on this occa- 
sion will keep many families from leaving the colony ; 
there are near thirty working at the plantation already, 
and I would employ as many more if they were to be 
had. Whatsoever is done for God ought to be done 
speedily, as well as with all our might. Monday, 
February 4. — Met, according to appointment, with all 
the magistrates, and the former trustee of the orphans, 
who heard the recorder read over the grant given me by 
the Trustees, and took a minute of their approbation of 
the same. Lord, grant that I and my friends may care- 
fully watch over every soul that is or shall be committed 
to our charge ! ' 

Gladman, the converted captain, proved a wise helper 
in the management of the orphanage money. It was he 
who counselled Whitefield, before he left London, to 
invest the thousand pounds that had been collected, in 
goods which might be sold to advantage on their arrival 
in America ; and it was he who managed to sell them so 
advantageously in Philadelphia as nearly to realise the 
expenses of the voyage for the. whole family. Another of 
the family was a surgeon, who had come out on the same 
condition as the rest, that is, he was to have food and 
clothing — it was as much as Whitefield himself ever had. 
Acting upon the truth that, ' whatever is done for God 
ought to be done speedily,' Whitefield did not wait until 
the orphanage was ready before beginning his philan- 
thropic work, but at once hired a large house, and took 



198 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



in all the orphans he could find in the colony ; and that 
he might get all, he went to several of the settlements, 
and brought them home himself. He says that 6 a great 
many also of the town's children came to school gratis ; 
and many poor people who could not maintain their 
children, upon application had leave given them to send 
their little ones for a month or two, or more, as they 
could spare them, till at length my family consisted of 
between sixty and seventy. Most of the orphans were in 
poor case, and three or four almost eaten up with lice. 
I likewise erected an infirmary, in which many sick people 
were cured and taken care of gratis. I have now by me 
(he writes this six years afterwards) a list of upwards of a 
hundred and thirty patients who were under the surgeon's 
hands, exclusive of my private family. This surgeon I 
furnished with all proper drugs and utensils, which put 
me to no small expense.' 

The foundation- brick of the ' great house,' as he calls 
the orphanage, was laid by himself on Tuesday, March 25, 
without any parade — even without a silver trowel or a 
mahogany mallet — but with full assurance of faith. The 
workmen were the spectators, and knelt down with him 
to offer the dedication prayer. They sang a hymn toge- 
ther, and he gave them a word of exhortation, bidding 
them remember to work heartily, knowing that they 
worked for God. Forty children were then under his 
care, and nearly a hundred mouths had to be daily sup- 
plied with food. The expense was great, 4 but,' he says, 
' our great and good God, I am persuaded, will enable me 
to defray it. As yet I am kept from the least doubting. 
The more my family increases, the more enlargement and 
comfort I feel. Set thy fiat to it, gracious Father, and 
for Thy own name's sake convince us more and more that 
Thou never wilt forsake those that put their trust in 
Thee!' He needed both his own comfortable faith and 
God's fiat upon that solitary little brick which he had 



Wesley's sermon on free grace. 



199 



kid on the ground ; for that day he was worth only one 
hundred and fifty pounds. The future justified his act 
before men ; his loving heart justified it from the first 
before God. 

But all was not at rest. His very friendships were to 
cause him his greatest troubles ; and the first signs of 
them appeared while he was busy among his family ; 
there a letter and a journal from John Wesley reached 
him. That Whitefield himself had been anxious about 
the respective views of Calvin and Arminius has been 
told already, and also that he had determined to speak 
out the conclusions he had come to. For once he was 
behind his friend, and it was an honourable slowness to 
contention. Wesley, while at Bristol, had been accused 
in a letter, apparently anonymous, of not preaching the 
gospel, because he did not preach up election. This led 
him to consult the lot as to whether he should preach 
and print his sermon on free grace, and the lot he drew 
said, 6 preach and print ;' and accordingly he did so ; but 
at Whitefield's request, who was then in England, he 
desisted from publishing so long as his friend should re- 
main in the country. 

Soon after Whitefield sailed the sermon appeared. 
Wesley also adopted into his creed the doctrine of per- 
fection ; that is, 6 free, full, and present salvation from all 
the guilt, all the power, and all the in-being of sin.' His 
letter to Whitefield at Savannah was upon their re- 
spective doctrines of election and perfection, asking him 
to give up the former and embrace the latter. To this 
Whitefield could not consent ; he answered him, ' 1 could 
now send a particular answer to your last ; but, my 
honoured friend and brother, for once hearken to a child, 
who is willing to wash your feet. I beseech you, by the 
mercies of God in Christ Jesus our Lord, if you would 
have my love confirmed towards you, write no more to 
me about misrepresentations wherein we differ. To the 



* 



200 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



best of my knowledge at present no sin has dominion 
over me, yet I feel the strugglings of indwelling sin day 
by day. I can therefore by no means come into your 
interpretation of the passage mentioned in the letter, and 
as explained in your preface to Mr. Halyburton. The 
doctrine of election, and the final perseverance of those 
who are in Christ, I am ten thousand times more con- 
vinced of, if possible, than when I saw you last. You 
think otherwise : why, then, should we dispute, when 
there is no probability of convincing ? Will it not in the 
end destroy brotherly love, and insensibly take from us 
that cordial union and sweetness of soul which, I pray 
God, may always subsist between us ? How glad would 
the enemies of the Lord be to see us divided! How 
many would rejoice, should I join and make a party 
against you ! And, in one word, how would the cause 
of our common Master every way suffer by our raising 
disputes about particular points of doctrine ! Honoured 
sir, let us offer salvation freely to all by the blood of 
Jesus ; and whatever light God has communicated to us, 
let us freely communicate it to others. I have lately 
read the life of Luther, and think it nowise to his honour, 
that the last part of his life was so much taken up in 
disputing with Zuinglius and others, who in all pro- 
bability equally loved the Lord Jesus, notwithstanding 
they might differ from him in other points. Let this, 
dear sir, be a caution to us ; I hope it will be to me ; 
for, by the blessing of God, provoke me to it as much as 
you please, I do not think ever to enter the lists of con- 
troversy with you on the points wherein we differ. Only 
I pray to God, that, the more you judge me, the more I 
may love you, and learn to desire no one's approbation 
but that of my Lord and Master Jesus Christ.' Unfor- 
tunately he did not abide by these truly Christian pur- 
poses, neither was Wesley so forbearing as he ought 
to have been. 



SLAVERY. 



201 



Whitefield's kind heart was busy with another good 
work while he was gathering the orphans to his house. 
That month's ride through Maryland, Virginia, and 
Carolina had brought him near slavery and all its revolt- 
ing accessories ; and he was pained at the heart. It 
would not do to be silent about the wrongs of such as 
had no helper ; he took pen in hand, and wrote to the 
inhabitants of those three states : — 

6 As I lately passed through your provinces ' [he says] 6 in my 
way hither, I was sensibly touched with a fellow feeling of the 
miseries of the poor Xegroes. Could I have preached more 
frequently among you, I should have delivered my thoughts to 
you in my public discourses ; but, as business here required me 
to stop as little as possible on the road, I have no other way to 
discharge the concern which at present lies upon my heart, 
than by sending you this letter. How you will receive it 
I know not. Whether you will accept it in love, or be 
offended with me, as the master of the damsel was with Paul 
for casting the evil spirit out of her, when he saw the hope of 
his gain was gone, is uncertain ; but, whatever be the event, I 
must inform you, in the meekness and gentleness of Christ, that 
I think (rod has a quarrel with you for your abuse of and 
cruelty to the poor Xegroes. Whether it be lawful for Christians 
to buy slaves, and thereby encourage the nations from whence 
they are brought to be at perpetual war with each other, I shall 
not take upon me to determine ; but sure I am it is sinful, 
when bought, to use them as bad as, nay worse than, brutes ; 
and whatever particular exceptions there may be (as I would 
certainly hope there are some), I fear the generality of you that 
own Xegroes are liable to such a charge ; for your slaves, I 
believe, work as hard, if not harder, than the horses whereon 
you ride. These, after they have done their work, are fed and 
taken proper care of ; but many Xegroes, when wearied with 
labour in your plantations, have been obliged to grind their 
own corn after they return home. 

£ Your dogs are caressed and fondled at your tables ; but your 
slaves, who are frequently styled dogs or beasts, have not an 
equal privilege ; they are scarce permitted to pick up the 
crumbs which fall from their masters' tables ; nay, some, as I 



202 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



have been informed by an eyewitness, have been, upon the most 
trifling provocation, cut with knives, and have had forks thrown 
into their flesh ; not to mention what numbers have been given 
up to the inhuman usage of cruel taskmasters, who, by their 
unrelenting scourges, have ploughed upon their backs and made 
long furrows, and at length brought them even to death itself. 

e 'Tis true, I hope, there are but few such monsters of bar- 
barity suffered to subsist amongst you ; some, I hear, have been 
latelv executed in Virginia for killing; slaves, and the laws are 
very severe against such who at any time murder them. 

4 And perhaps it might be better for the poor creatures them- 
selves to be hurried out of life, than to be made so miserable 
as they generally are in it. And indeed, considering what usage 
they commonly meet with, I have wondered that we have not 
more instances of self-murder among the Xegroes, or that they 
have not more frequently risen up in arms against their owners. 
Virginia has been once, and Charles Town more than once, 
threatened in this way. 

' And though I heartily pray Grod they may never be per- 
mitted to get the upper hand, yet, should such a thing be 
jDermitted by Providence, all good men must acknowledge the 
judgment would be just. For is it not the highest ingratitude, 
as well as cruelty, not to let your poor slaves enjoy some fruits 
of their labour ? 

' When passing along, whilst I have viewed your plantations 
cleared and cultivated, many spacious houses built, and the 
owners of them faring sumptuously every day, my blood has 
frequently almost run cold within me, to consider how many of 
your slaves had neither convenient food to eat, nor proper 
raiment to put on, notwithstanding most of the comforts you 
enjoy were solely owing to their indefatigable labours. The 
Scripture says — " Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth 
out the corn." Does Grod take care of oxen ? And will He 
not take care of the Xegroes also ? Undoubtedly He will. 
" Go to now, ye rich men, weep and howl for your miseries that 
shall come upon you." Behold the provision of the poor Xegroes 
which have reaped down your fields, which is by you denied 
them, crieth, and the cries of them who reaped are entered into 
the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth. We have a remarkable in- 
stance of Grod's taking cognisance, and avenging the quarrel of 



SLAVERY. 



203 



poor slaves, 2 Sam. xxi. 1 : " Then there was a famine in the 
days of David, three years, year after year ; and David enquired 
of the Lord. And the Lord answered, It is for Saul and his 
bloody house, because he slew the Gibeonites." Two things 
here are very remarkable ; first, that these Gribeonites were 
only hewers of wood and drawers of water, or, in other words, 
slaves like yours. Secondly, that this plague was sent by (rod, 
many years after the injury, the cause of the plague, was com- 
mitted. And for what end was this and such like examples 
recorded in Holy Scripture ? Without doubt for our learning, 
upon whom the ends of the world are come ; for Grod is the 
same to-day as He was yesterday, and will continue the same 
for ever. He does not reject the prayer of the poor and desti- 
tute, nor disregard the cry of the meanest Negroes. Their blood, 
which has been spilt for these many years in your respective 
provinces, will ascend up to heaven against you. I wish I could 
say it would speak better things than the blood of Abel. But 
this is not all. Enslaving or misusing their bodies, compara- 
tively speaking, would be an inconsiderable evil, was proper 
care taken of their souls ; but I have great reason to believe 
that most of you on purpose keep your Negroes ignorant of 
Christianity; or otherwire, why are they permitted through 
your provinces openly to profane the Lord's day by their dan- 
cing, piping, and such like ? I know the general pretence for 
this neglect of their souls is, that teaching them Christianity 
would make them proud, and consequently unwilling to submit 
to slavery. But what a dreadful reflection is this upon your 
holy religion ! What blasphemous notions must those have 
that make such an objection of the precepts of Christianity. 
Do you find any one command in the gospel that has the least 
tendency to make people forget their relative duties ? Do you 
not read that servants, and as many as are under the yoke of 
bondage, are required to be subject in all lawful things to their 
masters, and that not only to the good and gentle, but also to 
the fro ward? Nay, may I not appeal to your own hearts, 
whether deviating from the laws of Christ Jesus is not the cause 
of all the evils and miseries mankind now universally groan 
under, and of all the vices we find both in ourselves and others ? 
But what Christianity were they taught ? They were baptized, 
and taught to read and write ; and this they may do, and much 



204 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHIT EF J ELD. 



more, and yet be far from the kingdom of Grod ; for there is a 
vast difference between civilising and Christianising a Negro. 
A black as well as a white man may be civilised' by outward 
restraints, and afterwards break through those restraints again ; 
but I challenge the world to produce a single instance of a 
Negro's being made a thorough Christian, and thereby made 
a worse servant : it cannot be. But further, if the teaching 
slaves Christianity has such a bad influence upon their lives, 
why are you generally desirous of having your children taught ? 
Think you they are any better by nature than the poor Negroes ? 
No, in nowise. Blacks are just as much, and no more, con- 
ceived and born in sin as white men are : both, if born and bred 
up here, I am persuaded are naturally capable of the same im- 
provement. And as for the grown Negroes, I am apt to think, 
whenever the gospel is preached with power amongst them, 
that many will be effectually brought home to Grod. Your 
present and bad usage of them, however ill-designed, may thus 
far do them good as to break their wills, increase the sense of 
their natural misery, and consequently better dispose their 
minds to accept the redemption wrought out for them by the 
death and obedience of Jesus Christ. Not long since Grod hath 
been pleased to make some of the Negroes in New England 
vessels of mercy, and some I hear have been brought to cry 
out, "What shall we do to be saved?" in the province of 
Pennsylvania. Doubtless there is a time when the fulness of 
the Grentiles will come in ; and then, I believe, if not before, 
these despised slaves will find the gospel of Christ to be the 
power of Grod to their salvation, as well as we. But I know all 
arguments to prove the necessity of taking care of your Negroes' 
souls, though never so conclusive, will prove ineffectual till 
you are convinced of the necessity of securing the salvation of 
your own. That you yourselves are not effectually convinced 
of this, I think, is too notorious to want evidence. A general 
deadness as to divine things, and not to say a general profane- 
ness, is discernible both in pastors and people. 

6 Most of you are without any teaching priest ; and, what- 
ever quantity of rum there may be, yet I fear but very few 
bibles are annually imported into your different provinces. Grod 
has already begun to visit for this as well as for other wicked 
things. For near two years last past He has been, in a remark- 



SLAVERY. 



205 



able manner, contending with the people of South Carolina ; 
their houses have been depopulated with the small-pox and 
fever, and their own slaves have risen up in arms against them. 
These judgments are undoubtedly sent abroad, not only that 
the inhabitants of that, but of other provinces should learn 
righteousness ; and, unless you all repent, you all must in like 
manner expect to perish. Grod first generally corrects us with 
whips ; if that will not do, He must chastise us with scorpions. 
A foreign enemy is now threatening to invade you; and no thing 
will more provoke Grod to give you up as a prey into their teeth 
than impenitence and unbelief. Let these be removed, and the 
sons of violence shall not be able to hurt you : no, your oxen 
shall be strong to labour ; there shall be no decay of your 
people by epidemical sickness, no leading away into captivity 
from abroad, and no complaining in your streets at home. 
Your sons shall grow up as young plants, and your daughters 
be as the polished corners of the temple ; and, to sum up all 
blessings in one, " Then shall the Lord be your Grod." That 
you may be the people who are in such a happy case is the 
earnest prayer of 

4 Your sincere well-wisher and servant in Christ, 

4 GrEORGE WhITEFIELD.' 

Whitefield was absolutely blind to the wickedness of 
slavery as slavery ; it was only the brutal conduct of some 
of the masters that appeared wrong to him. At his first 
visit to Georgia he expressed his persuasion that the 
colony must always continue feeble, if the people were 
denied the use of rum and slaves ; and he afterwards dis- 
honoured himself by becoming a slave-owner, and work- 
ing his slaves for the good of the orphanage. There is 
little or nothing to be said in extenuation of his conduct ; 
for though it was a popular notion in his day, that slavery 
was permissible, it was not the notion of every one ; and 
he might have come to a better understanding of the 
subject had he pondered it. Among his Quaker friends 
there w T ere some who could have led him into the light, 
had he spent time enough in conferring with them ; but 



20G LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

his incessant preaching gave him no opportunity for 
thinking and forming an independent conclusion. He 
had only one thought, and cared nothing for a second, 
because the first was paramount. It might have been 
impossible for him to preach, and at the same time plead 
for the freedom of the Negroes ; but at least he might 
have kept his own hands clean, and have given a prac- 
tical rebuke to his neighbours' sins. One sentence in his 
letter shows that his mind might have arrived at a just 
conclusion but for the hurry which called him away to 
other things, 4 Whether it be lawful for Christians to buy 
slaves, and thereby encourage the nations from whence 
they are brought to be at perpetual war with each other, 
I shall not take upon me to determine.' But that was 
just the thing he was bound to determine ; and, if his 
convictions on the unlawfulness of war for religious ends 
had any depth in them, which hardly appears to have 
been the case, he must have concluded that war for en- 
slaving men who were of the same flesh as their captors 
and buyers, and of equal value in the sight of God, must 
be much less justifiable than religious wars. It may be 
safely affirmed that the lash was never used on the farm 
where the orphan-house stood ; that the children were not 
brutalised by the sight of cruelty; and that the Negroes 
did not go home weary and sore to grind their corn for 
the evening meal. But there must have been some things 
to offend,— almost certainly, separation between husband 
and wife, between parents and children. Orphaned hearts 
must have toiled in the fields to support the orphans in 
the home. 

On the day of the appearance of the letter to the 
slave-owners, Seward chronicled in his journal a story 
which well illustrates the quality of Negro human nature. 
He says, 4 Heard of a drinking-club that had a Negro boy 
attending them, who used to mimic people for their di- 
version. The gentlemen bid him mimic our brother 



COURTSHIP. 



207 



Whitefield, which he was very unwilling to do ; but they 
insisting upon it he stood up, and said, 44 1 speak the 
truth in Christ, I lie not ; unless you repent, you will all 
be damned." This unexpected speech broke up the 
club, which has not met since.' 

Within six days of the ceremony at Bethesda, White- 
field was called northward by the claims of the orphans, 
who must be maintained ; and nothing could be found for 
them in Georgia. He sailed in his sloop, and no sooner 
got on board than he devoted his time to the writing of 
as strange and loveless a love letter as ever came from 
the hand of the most witless boor. It was addressed to 
an English lady at Blendon : — 

< To Mr. and Mrs. D. 

1 On board the " Savannah," bound to Philadelphia 
from Georgia. April 4, 1740. 

6 My dear friends, — Since I wrote last we have buried our 
Sister L. Kachel I left at Philadelphia, and Sister T. seems 
to be in a declining state ; so that Sister A. alone is like 
to be left of all the women who came over with me from 
England. I find by experience that a mistress is absolutely 
necessary for the due management of my increasing family, and 
to take off some of that care which at present lies upon me. 
Besides, I shall in all probability, at my next return from 
England, bring more women with me ; and I find, unless they 
are all truly gracious (or indeed if they are), without a superior 
matters cannot be carried on as becometh the gospel of Christ 
Jesus. It hath been, therefore, much impressed upon my heart 
that I should marry, in order to have a helpmeet for me in the 
work whereunto our dear Lord Jesus hath called me. This 
comes (like Abraham's servant to Eebekah's relations) to know 
whether you think your daughter, Miss E., is a proper person 
to engage in suck an undertaking ? If so, whether you will be 
pleased to give me leave to propose marriage unto her ? You 
need not be afraid of sending me a refusal. For, I bless Grod, 
if I know anything of my own heart, I am free from that foolish 
passion which the world calls Lote. I write only because I 



20 S LIFE AND TKAVELS OF GEORGE WHTTEFIELD. 



believe it is the will of G-od that I should alter my state ; but 
your denial will fully convince me that your daughter is not 
the person appointed by G-od for me. He knows my heart. I 
would not marry but for Him. and in Him, for ten thousand 
worlds. But I have sometimes thought 3Iiss E. would be 
my helpmate ; for she has often been impressed upon my heart. 
I should think myself safer in your family, because so many 
of you love the Lord Jesus, and consequently would be more 
watchful over mv precious and immortal soul. After strong 
crying and tears at the throne of grace for direction, and after 
unspeakable troubles with my own heart. I write this. Be 
pleased to spread the letter before the Lord, and if you think 
this motion to be of Him, be pleased to deliver the enclosed 
to vour daughter. If not, say nothing, only let me know you 
disapprove of it, and that shall satisfy, dear sir and madam, 
4 Your obliged friend and servant in Christ, 

' G-EOBGE WhITEFIELD.' 

The enclosure ran thus : — 

« To Miss E. 

'On board the " Savannah. " April 4. 1740. 

6 Be not surprised at the contents of this. The letter sent 
to vour honoured father and mother will acquaint you with 
the reasons. Do you think you could undergo the fatigues 
that must necessarily attend being joined to one who is every 
day liable to be called out to suffer for the sake of Jesus Christ ? 
Can vou bear to leave your father and kindred's house, and to 
trust on Him who feedeth the young ravens that call upon him 
for your own and children's support, supposing it should please 
Him to bless you with any? Can you undertake to help a 
husband in the charge of a family consisting of a hundred 
persons? Can you bear the inclemencies of the air, both as to 
cold and heat, in a foreign climate ? Can you. when you have 
a husband, be as though you had none, and willingly part with 
him, even for a long season, wh-n hi? Lord and Master shall 
call him forth to preach the gospel, and command him to leave 
you behind ? If. after seeking to God for direction and search- 
ing vour heart, you can say. I can do all those things through 
Christ strengthening me," what if you and I were joined together 



COURTSHIP. 



209 



in the Lord, and you came with me at my return from England, 
to be a helpmeet for me in the management of the orphan- 
house ? I have great reason to believe it is the Divine will 
that I should alter my condition, and have often thought you 
was the person appointed for me. I shall still wait on God for 
direction, and heartily entreat Him that, if this motion be not 
of Him, it may come to nought. I write thus plainly, because, 
I trust, I write not from any other principles but the love of 
(rod. I shall make it my business to call on the Lord Jesus, 
and would advise you to consult both Him and your friends. 
For, in order to attain a blessing, we should call both the Lord 
Jesus and His disciples to the marriage. I much like the 
manner of Isaac's marrying with Eebekah, and think no marriage 
can succeed well unless both parties are like-minded with Tobias 
and his wife. I think I can call the Grod of Abraham, Isaac, 
and Jacob to witness, that I desire to take you my sister to 
wife, not for lust, but " uprightly ; and therefore I hope He will 
mercifully ordain, if it be His blessed will that we should be 
joined together, that we may walk as Zachary and Elizabeth 
did, in all the ordinances of the Lord blameless." I make no 
great profession to you, because I believe you think me sincere. 
The passionate expressions which carnal courtiers use, I think 
ought to be avoided by those that would marry in the Lord. I 
can only promise, by the help of Grod, " to keep my matrimonial 
vow, and to do what I can towards helping you forward in the 
great work of salvation." If you think marriage will be any 
way prejudicial to your better part, be so kind as to send me a 
denial. I would not be a snare to you for the world. You 
need not be afraid of speaking your mind. I trust I love you 
only for Grod, and desire to be joined to you only by His com- 
mand, and for His sake. With fear and much trembling I write, 
and shall patiently tarry the Lord's leisure, till He is pleased to 
incline you, dear Miss E., to send an answer to 

' Your affectionate brother, friend, and servant in Christ, 

c GrEOKGE WhITEFIELD.' 

' Dear Miss E.' did not care to be wooed for a house- 
keeper instead of a wife ; and Whitefield stood a rejected 
suitor, but not a disappointed lover, for he subsequently 

p 



210 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOKGE WHITEFIELD. 



learned that at the time of his offer the lady was ' in a 
seeking state only ;' besides, he was not in love. 

The sloop made a quick passage to Xewcastle, from 
whence Whitefield hastened his journey to Philadelphia 
by way of Willingtown. The truth had not been in- 
active during the absence of its eloquent preacher ; some 
it had conquered, others it had hardened and driven into 
open hostility. All around Philadelphia, as well as in 
the city, there was much religious excitement ; and many 
ministers, who had been of the ' Pharisee-teacher class,' 
had become earnest, active labourers, and were following 
up Whitefield's work. The minister of Abingdon passed 
through a very great trial before he entered into the 
spiritual peace enjoyed by Whitefield ; and his honesty 
of conduct attests his sincerity of mind. He had been 
for some years a preacher of the doctrines of grace with- 
out knowing the power of what he taught, until White- 
field came and preached for him. After Whitefield's 
departure he attempted to preach, but failed. Humbly 
confessing to his congregation the deception he had prac- 
tised on himself and them, he asked those of them who 
could pray to make intercession for him. Still anxious 
and unsettled, he again resumed his work ; for he judged 
that in the way of duty he would be the most likely to 
find light and peace ; nor was he left without the blessing 
he so earnestly desired. A congregation which had a 
pastor in such a state of mind could hardly fail to receive 
Whitefield's word with deep emotion ; 6 a great influ- 
ence was observable ' among them when he spoke, and 
4 the word came with a soul-convicting and comforting 
power to many.' 

The Commissary of Philadelphia told Whitefield that 
he could lend him his pulpit no more. Thanking God 
that the fields were open, he betook himself to Society 
Hill next day, and preached in the morning to six thou- 
sand, and in the evening to eight thousand. On the fol- 



REFORMATION. 



211 



lowing Sunday morning, at seven o'clock, ten thousand 
assembled to hear him, and gave him one hundred and 
ten pounds for his orphans. The same day he went 
morning and evening to church, and had the comfort of 
being treated as he treated others who did not think with 
him. The minister preached upon justification by works, 
and did his best to damage Whitefield's favourite doctrine 
of justification by faith, though with ill success ; for many 
hearers who had entered church on seeing Whitefield go 
in. were more deeply persuaded than ever of the truth of 
evangelical doctrines. Besides, such attacks made him 
look like a persecuted man, and gave him something to 
answer ; hence it was no wonder that, when he went from 
the church to preach in the open air, fifteen thousand 
people came together. A second collection of eighty 
pounds showed that more than curiosity, or a desire to 
hear a reply, had moved them to come. 

From Franklin to tipplers there was one subject of 
conversation. The tipplers, Whitefield says, ' would 
mutter in coffee-houses, give a curse, drink a bowl of 
punch, and then cry out against me for not preaching up 
more morality. From such profane moralists may I 
always turn away.' Franklin was amazed at the way in 
which people of all denominations went to hear him : he 
speculated on the extraordinary influence of Whitefield's 
oratory on his hearers, and on their admiration and re- 
spect for him, notwithstanding they were often told that 
they were naturally half beasts and half devils. He won- 
dered to see the change soon made in the manners of the 
inhabitants ; how, from being thoughtless or indifferent 
about religion, it seemed as if all the world were growing 
religious, so that no one could walk through the town of 
an evening without hearing psalms sung in different 
families of every street. 

The indiscreet zeal of Seward might, during this visit, 
have cost both him and Whitefield, whom he seems to 



212 LIFE AND TEAYELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



have fawned upon, very serious consequences. Excited 
at finding that a son of Perm was one of the proprietors 
of the assembly rooms, he obtained the key of the rooms 
from the keeper, under a promise that he would take the 
consequences, and then locked the door, to drive out all 
the people to hear Whitefleld. This freak cost him a 
good deal of abuse, a threat that he should be caned, and 
the maintenance of the keeper's family ; and, well as he 
deserved what he got, he mistook it for persecution ! 
Another of his follies was to trumpet Whitefield's praises 
in the newspapers by writing both advertisements and 
paragraphs. He gave his own colouring in the Xew 
York papers to his exploit with the assembly rooms, and 
made it appear that the rooms had been closed by some 
one in authority. His disingenuous paragraph was as 
follows : 4 We bear from Philadelphia, that, since Mr. 
Whitefleld's preaching there, the dancing-school and 
concert-room have been shut up as inconsistent with the 
doctrines of the gospel ; at which some gentlemen were 
so enraged that they broke open the door. It is most 
extraordinary that such devilish diversions should be sup- 
ported in that city, and by some of that very sect whose 
first principles are an utter detestation of them, as appears 
from William Penn's "No Cross, no Crown," in which he 
says, " every step in a dance is a step to hell." ' Cir- 
cumstances called both Gladman and Seward away from 
Whitefleld's side before IS ew York was reached ; and it 
cannot be regretted that the latter, much as Whitefield 
was attached to him, never returned. 1 They were des- 

1 Here is a scene in Benjamin Franklin's shop, occasioned by tins para- 
graph. 'May 23, 1740. — Called at Mr. Franklin's the printer's, and met 
Mr. P. and several other gentlemen of the Assembly, who accosted me 
very roughly concerning a paragraph I had put in the papers, alleging it to 
be false. They much insisted that my paragraph insinuated as if the gen- 
tlemen were convicted of their error by Mr. Whitefield's preaching, which 
they abhorred. I told them I thought no one would construe it so; but it 
they did, it was an honour to them, for that I myself was formerly as fond 
of them as they could be, but, blessed be the Lord ! that I vr&< convinced to 



ANTHONY BENEZET. 



213 



patched to England to bring over some one to take 
charge of the orphanage in Whitefield's absence, to ac- 
quaint the Trustees of Georgia with the state of the colony, 
to procure an allowance of Negroes — that is, slaves ; also 
a free title to the lands, an independent magistracy, and 
money for building the church at Savannah. Seward 
died in England before his w^ork was done. 

Sick and weary, Whitefield preached his w T ay from 
Philadelphia to New York, where his friend Mr. Noble 
received him. A strong, healthy man might natter him- 
self that he had achieved marvels, could he say that he 
had done as much as Whitefield did there under weak- 
ness of body and much loneliness of heart. The services 
were early and late, numerous, sometimes in the fields, 
and attended by crowds which few speakers could have 
made hear. Brotherly kindness was there to cheer him, 
and the generosity of the people, who gave him three 
hundred pounds, stirred all his gratitude. It was here, 
too, that he received the first of those childish letters 
from his dear orphans, which were afterwards to reach 
him both in England and America. He does not say 
what they contained, but only that in a packet of letters 
from Charles Town and Savannah 4 were two or three 
from my little orphans.' 

Still feeble and low in spirits, he preached his way back 
from New York to Philadelphia, and was welcomed to the 
house of good Anthony Benezet ; 1 but to tell how he 

the contrary.' — ( Journal of a Voyage from Savannah to Philadelphia, &c. 
By William Seward, Gent., companion in travel with the Rev. Mr. George 
AVhitefield,' 1740. 

1 ' Anthony Benezet was the personal friend of Mr. Whitefield, who fre- 
quently lodged at his house whenever he visited Philadelphia. His father 
was one of the many Protestants who, in consequence of the persecutions 
which followed the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, sought an asylum in 
foreign countries. After serving an apprenticeship in an eminent mercantile 
house in London, he removed to Philadelphia, where he joined in profession 
the Quakers. He considered the accumulation of wealth as of no importance 
when compared with the enjoyment of doing good ; and he chose the -humble, 



214 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOKGE WHITE FIELD. 



preached and was preached against — how he comforted 
the sin-stricken and cared for the Negroes, who came in 
large numbers to ask for his counsel, would be to repeat 
a tale already told. A new feature, however, was be- 
ginning to manifest itself in his congregations, though it 
was not very remarkable until he reached Nottingham, 
where the Tennents and other men of a similar spirit had 
been labouring with much success for some time, and to 
which he was invited in the strongest terms by some of 
the inhabitants. Thinly populated as the place was, 
nearly twelve thousand people were assembled, many of 
them having come from a great distance ; indeed, it was 
common for a great number to go with him as far from 
their homes as they conveniently could; and, on the 
morning when he last left Philadelphia, two boats that 
plied the ferry near Derby were employed from three 
o'clock in the morning until ten, in ferrying passengers 
across who wanted to hear him as often as possible. He 
had not spoken long before he perceived numbers melt- 
ing ; as he proceeded the influence increased, till at last, 
both in the morning and afternoon, thousands cried out, 
so that they almost drowned his voice. 4 Oh, what strong 
crying and tears,' he says, ' were shed and poured forth 

despised, but beyond appreciation useful and honourable, situation of a 
schoolmaster, as according best with this notion, believing that, by endea- 
vouring to train up youth in knowledge and virtue, he should become more 
extensively useful than in any other way to his fellow-creatures. His works 
on the calamitous state of the enslaved Negroes in the British dominions 
contained a clear and distinct development of the subject, and became emi- 
nently instrumental in disseminating a proper knowledge and detestation of 
the trade. He died at Philadelphia in the spring of 1784. The interment 
of his remains was attended by several thousands of all ranks, professions, 
and parties, including some hundreds of those poor Africans who had been 
personally benefited by his labours, and whose behaviour on the occasion 
showed the gratitude and affection they considered to be due to him as the 
benefactor of their whole race. It was at this amiable philanthropist's 
funeral, when hundreds of weeping Negroes stood round, that an American 
officer said, (l I would rather be Anthony Benezet in that coffin than General 
Washington with all his fame." ' — ' The Life and Times of the Countess of 
Huntingdon,' vol. ii. p. 266. 



PHYSICAL EFFECTS OF WHITEFIELD'S PREACHING. 215 



after the dear Lord Jesus ! Some fainted, and when they 
had got a little strength, they would hear and faint again. 
Others cried out in a manner almost as if they were in 
the sharpest agonies of death. And after I had finished 
my last discourse, I myself was so overpowered with a 
sense of God's love, that it almost took away my life. 
However, at length I revived, and having; taken a little 
meat, was strengthened to go with Messrs. Blair, Tennent, 
and some other friends to Mr. Blair's house, about twenty 
miles from Nottingham, In the way we refreshed our 
souls by singing psalms and hymns. We got to our 
journey's end about midnight, where, after we had taken 
a little food, and recommended ourselves to God by 
prayer, we went to rest, and slept, I trust, in the favour 
as well as under the protection of our dear Lord Jesus. 
Oh Lord, was ever love like Thine ? ' The next day, at 
Fog's Manor, where Blair was minister, the congregation 
was as large as that at Nottingham, and as great, White- 
field says, ' if not a greater, commotion was in the hearts 
of the people. Look where I would, most were drowned 
in tears. The word was sharper than a two-edged sword, 
and their bitter cries and groans were enough to pierce 
the hardest heart. Oh, what different visages were then 
to be seen ! Some were struck pale as death, others were 
wringing their hands, others lying on the ground, others 
sinking into the arms of them friends, and most lifting up 
their eyes towards heaven, and crying out to God for 
mercy ! I could think of nothing, when I looked upon 
them, so much as the great day. They seemed like per- 
sons awakened by the last trump, and coming out of their 
graves to judgment.' The people, agitated and under 
violent convictions of guilt, and dread of the wrath of 
God, came many miles to seek his advice, followed him, 
indeed, as far as Newcastle, where his sloop, now under 
the charge of its former mate, lay ready to receive him 
and take him to Savannah. 



216 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WIIITEFIELD. 

His affectionate nature was beautifully shown in the 
many thoughtful letters and messages which he addressed 
to all kinds of friends during the time that the sloop 
waited for a fair wind. Always more prone to be too 
open than too reticent, he speaks without once thinking 
of the common safeguards which the timid place around 
themselves. He sends, in a letter to a Philadelphia 
friend, his 4 love to Negro Peggy and all her black 
sisters,' and asks them to pray for him. All converts, 
all persons who had shown him kindness, all inquirers 
after truth, are regarded as personal friends. But the 
affection he was wont to inspire was strongest in the 
hearts of the orphans and his dependent family, and, on 
his return to Savannah with the five hundred pounds that 
he had collected among the northern churches, each in 
turn hung upon his neck, kissed him, and wept over him 
with tears of joy. Several of his parishioners came and 
joined the rejoicing family in weeping, praying, and 
giving of thanks. 

Next day the house was a miniature Nottingham-Pog- 
Manor congregation. The excitement began with a man 
who had come with him from the scenes of his preaching 
triumphs, and who became much stirred up to pray for 
himself and others. Whitefield also went and prayed for 
half an hour with some of the women of the house and 
three girls, who seemed to be weary with the weight of 
their sins. At public worship, young and old were all 
dissolved in tears. After service, several of his parishion- 
ers, all his family, and the little children, returned home 
crying along the street, and some could not refrain from 
praying loudly as they went. Weak and exhausted he 
lay down for a little rest, but the condition of most in 
the house constrained him to rise again and pray ; and 
had he not lifted his voice very high, the groans and 
cries of the children would have prevented his being 
Jieard. This lasted for nearly an hour, and the concern 



BEEACH WITH WESLEY. 



217 



increasing rather than abating, he wisely desired them to 
retire. They did so, and then began to pray m every corner 
of the house. A storm of thunder and lightning which burst 
over the town at this time added to the solemnity of the 
night, and reminded them the more vividly of the coming 
of the Son of Man. All were not quiet even the next day. 
And no marvel, when we consider how profoundly inter- 
ested every one had been in the result of Whitefield's trip 
to the North. His success was their home, their comfort, 
their life ; and his failure their return to want and misery. 
His coming opened the fountain of all hearts, and natural 
gratitude quickly rose into higher religious emotions 
under his influence, by whom God had wrought penitence, 
broken-heartedness, and reformation among total stran- 
gers, among rugged sailors, and among opposers, who 
owed him nothing until they owed him themselves. 

His return to Savannah introduces us again to the 
Wesley trouble. His last day on board the sloop, May 
24, was partly spent in writing to friends in England, 
John Wesley among the number. He said, 4 Honoured 
sir, I cannot entertain prejudices against your principles 
and conduct any longer without informing you. The 
more I examine the writings of the most experienced 
men and the experiences of the most established Chris- 
tians, the more I differ from your notion about not com- 
mitting sin, and your denying the doctrines of election 
and final perseverance of the saints. I dread coming to 
England, unless you are resolved to oppose these truths 
with less warmth than when I was there last. I dread 
your coming over to America, because the work of God 
is carried on here, and that in a most glorious manner, 
by doctrines quite opposite to those you hold. Here are 
thousands of God's children who will not be persuaded 
out of the privileges purchased for them by the blood of 
Jesus. Here are many worthy experienced ministers 
who would oppose your principles to the utmost. God 



218 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

direct me what to do ! Sometimes I think it best to stay 
here, where we all think and speak the same thing : the 
work goes on without divisions, and with more success, 
because all employed in it are of one mind. I write not 
this, honoured sir, from heat of spirit, but out of love. 
At present I think you are entirely inconsistent with 
yourself, and therefore do not blame me if I do not 
approve of all that you say. God Himself, I find, teaches 
my friends the doctrine of election. Sister H. hath 
lately been convinced of it ; and, if I mistake not, dear 
and honoured Mr. Wesley hereafter will be convinced 
also. From my soul I wish you abundant success in the 
name of the Lord. I long to hear of your being made a 
spiritual father to thousands. Perhaps I may never see 
you again till we meet in judgment ; then, if not before, 
you will know that sovereign, distinguishing, irresistible 
grace brought you to heaven. Then you will know that 
God loved you with an everlasting love, and therefore 
with loving-kindness did He draw you. Honoured sir, 
farewell. My prayers constantly attend both you and 
your labours. I neglect no opportunity of writing. My 
next journal will acquaint you with new and surprising 
wonders. The Lord fills me both in body and soul. I 
am supported under the prospect of present and impend- 
ing trials with an assurance of God's loving me to the 
end, yea, even to all eternity.' The brotherly spirit is 
still there, but in a more decided attitude towards the 
disputed question, and the treatment it should receive, 
his intercourse with the northern Presbyterians having 
made him change thus much. The counsel to moderation 
and to avoid teaching doctrines on which the Methodist 
leaders were divided was, notwithstanding his resolution, 
made during his last voyage, to speak out, honourably 
acted upon by himself. He wrote to a friend in London 
beseeching him 6 to desire dear brother Wesley, for 
Christ's sake, to avoid disputing with him. I think I had 



BREACH WITH WESLEY. 



219 



rather die than to see a division between us ; and yet, 
how can we walk together if we oppose each other?' 
In another letter, which was written on June 25, he 
beseeches Wesley, for Christ's sake, never, if possible, to 
speak against election in his sermons. 6 No one,' he 
asserts, 6 can say that I ever mentioned it in public dis- 
courses, whatever my private sentiments may be. For 
Christ's sake let us not be divided among ourselves ; no- 
thing will so much prevent a division as your being silent 
on this head.' Then he runs into a pleasanter strain, 
where his heart was most at home. 6 I should have 
rejoiced at the sight of your journal. I long to sing a 
hymn of praise for what God has done for your soul. 
May God bless you more and more every day, and cause 
you to triumph in every place.' His generous, trustful 
disposition made him think that his friend would take 
some interest in his work among the orphans, and so he 
added at the end of his letter, 'My family is well re- 
gulated ; but I want some more gracious assistants. I 
have near an hundred and thirty to maintain daily with- 
out any fund. The Lord gives me a full undisturbed 
confidence in His power and goodness. Hear sir, adieu. 
I can write no more ; my heart is full. I want to be a 
little child.' 

Before these last w T ords reached Wesley, he replied, in 
a very short but kindly letter, to the letter of May 24. 
c The case is quite plain. There are bigots both for pre- 
destination and against it. God is sending a message to 
those on either side. But neither will receive it, unless 
from one who is of their own opinion. Therefore, for a 
time, you are suffered to be of one opinion, and I of an- 
other. But when His time is come, God will do what man 
cannot, namely, make us both of one mind. Then per- 
secution will flame out, and it will be seen whether we 
count our lives dear unto ourselves, so that we may finish 
our course with joy.' We look in vain, however, for any 



2f;0 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



response to the entreaty not to follow a public course of 
hostility to his old friend. 

The fashionable people of Charleston, now considerably 
changed in spirit and manner by the preaching of White- 
field, were anxious again to hear him before his intended 
visit to New England. He set sail, and came to them 
fresh from the excitement of Savannah, where, to use his 
own metaphor, ' the stately steps of our glorious Emma- 
nuel often appeared.' He was glad to come ; the orphan- 
age was becoming so great a burden that he Avas almost 
tempted to wish he had never undertaken it. Charleston 
had been munificent in its gifts before, and he could be 
sure of help again ; he loved change and travel ; his mind 
would be relieved from the anxiety of whether he should 
marry or not, for now, knowing that the lady whose hand 
he had sought was not adapted to the work of caring for 
the children, he hesitated whether to abide as he was, or 
to look for another helpmeet. Every difficulty would 
seem less if he again itinerated. His former friend, and 
now virulent enemy, the Commissary of Charleston, gave 
him a warm reception on the first Sunday after his 
arrival, when \\ liitefield, as was often his custom, went 
to church as a hearer. The sermon was directed against 
Methodists in general, and in particular against the Arch- 
Methodist present in the church. The effect of it was to 
send awav in disgust a lame number of the congregation, 
who would not receive the sacrament at the hands of 
such a clergyman. AVhitefield was waited upon in his 
pew by the clerk, and desired not to approach the table 
till the Commissary had spoken with him. He imme- 
diately retired to his lodgings, rejoicing that he was 
counted worthy to suffer this degree of contempt for his 
Lord's sake. 4 Blessed Jesus,' he exclaimed, 6 lay it not 
to the minister's charge.' The meeting-house of his friend 
Smith, the Independent minister, was open to him, and 
there he preached the word with power. This exaspe- 



COMMISSARY GARDEN. 



221 



rated Mr. Garden, who claimed jurisdiction over him, 
and cited him to appear before himself and some of his 
clergy, to answer for conducting divine worship in the 
meeting-house without reading the common prayer. 
Whitefield appeared thrice in open court, denied the Com- 
missary's right to interfere with a clergyman of another 
province, and appealed home. It fell out to the further- 
ance of his work. The suit compelled Whitefield to pro- 
long his stay in Charleston, and gave him better reasons 
for deciding to return to England in the following year. 

Excursions were made to places near Charleston as 
opportunity offered. The work was carried on under 
great depression from the intense heat of the weather. 
On one of his excursions he was driven to seek repose in 
a public-house, where he lay for a considerable time 
almost breathless and dead ; but that evening he preached 
in his appointed place both with freedom and power. To 
preach his last sermon to 4 the dear people of Charleston,' 
he went from his bed, and was carried to the chapel. 
Many of the rich people all around showed him great 
respect and hospitality ; and, on the day of his departure 
from Charleston, he rode to the house of Colonel Bee, of 
Ponpon, forty miles from town, which was reached at 
midnight. The next morning he was too weak to offer 
family prayer ; but at noon he rode a mile, and preached 
under a great tree to an attentive auditory. Weakness 
hindered either a second sermon, or any further advance 
that day. 6 Surely,' he said, £ it cannot be long ere this 
earthly tabernacle will be dissolved. As the hart panteth 
after the water-brooks, so longeth my soul after the full 
enjoyment of Thee, my God.' The next day he travelled 
and preached, but the effort almost cost him his life. Some- 
times he hoped that God would set his imprisoned soul 
at liberty. The thoughts of his Saviour's love to him, 
and that the Lord was his righteousness, melted him into 
tears. A dear friend and companion wept over him, and 



222 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

seemed not unwilling to take his flight with him into 
' the arms of the beloved Jesus.' The poor Negroes, who 
had learnt from their master that the sufferer was a 
friend of their race, crowded around the windows, ex- 
pressing by their looks and attentions great concern. The 
master sat by and wept, ' But, alas ! ' says Whitefield, 
who hoped his time of departure was come ; ' alas ! in a 
short time, I perceived my body grow stronger, and I 
was enabled to walk about.' He got back among the 
beloved orphans in a very prostrate condition, and could 
hardly bear up under the joy and satisfaction which he 
felt. The arrival of some Charleston friends somewhat 
revived him ; but again he was cast down by weakness 
of body and concern of mind ; and one night, just as he 
began family prayer, he was struck, as he thought, with 
death. A few broken accents, a soft prayer — 4 Lord 
Jesus receive my spirit ' — fell from his lips. Yet he was 
still appointed to life. The next day was Sunday, and 
feeble, indeed, must he have been to give up, as he did, 
the thought of officiating. More friends, however, had 
come in, and when he solicited a Baptist minister, who 
was among the visitors, to preach for him, that gentleman 
peremptorily refused, and urged (so great was his faith 
for another !) that God would strengthen him if he begun. 
And Whitefield stood rebuked. The willing heart mus- 
tered the body's broken powers for another effort ; and 
hardly had his prayer begun when one of the visitors 
dropped, 6 as though shot with a gun.' The power of 
God's word, as the visitor himself explained his conduct, 
had entered his heart. He soon arose, and sat attentively 
to hear the sermon. The influence quickly spread abroad, 
and the greatest part of the congregation was under great 
concern. When Whitefield and his friends returned 
home, the Baptist minister said, 6 Did I not tell you God 
would strengthen you ? ' Whitefield bowed his head, 
feeling that he was justly reproved, and prayed, when he 



BREACH WITH WESLEY. 



223 



recorded the events of the day in his journal — 4 Dearest 
Lord, for thy mercies' sake, never let me distrust thee 
again. me of little faith ! ' 

Pressing invitations to visit New England having come 

O Do 

to him from the Eev. Dr. Colman and Mr. Cooper, min- 
isters in Boston, and feeling desirous to see the descend- 
ants of the Puritans, he left his family again, and sailed 
first to Charleston and thence to Ehocle Island, several 
Charleston friends accompanying him. By this time his 
frame had recovered something of its former vigour, 
through the cooler weather and the fresh sea breezes, yet 
he was not sanguine of recovery. Amid his numerous 
engagements in Charleston he found time to write to his 
mother, whom he loved and honoured more and more 
every day, and of whom he had heard from a sailor who 
had seen her early in the year, by whom she had sent a 
message to her son, should he ever see him. He tells her 
that although he is better than he has been, he cannot, 
without a miracle, ' think of being long below,' and that 
every day he is longing 6 to be dissolved, and to be with 
Christ.' On the same day he wrote to Wesley: 'Last 
night I had the pleasure of receiving an extract of your 
journal. This morning I took a walk and read it. I 
pray God to give it His blessing. Many things, I trust, 
will prove beneficial, especially the account of yourself ; 
only, give me leave with all humility to exhort you not 
to be strenuous in opposing the doctrines of election and 
final perseverance, when, by your own confession, " you 
have not the witness of the Spirit within yourself," and, 
consequently, are not a proper judge. I remember 
dear brother E. told me one day, that " he was con- 
vinced of the perseverance of the saints." I told him you 
was not. He replied, but he will be convinced when he 
hath got the Spirit himself. I am assured God has now 
for some years given me this living witness in my soul. 
When I have been nearest death, my evidences have been 



224 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

the clearest. I can say I have been on the borders of 
Canaan, and do every day — nay, almost every moment — 
long for the appearing of our Lord Jesus Christ ; not to 
evade sufferings, but with a single desire to see His 
blessed face. I feel His blessed Spirit daily filling my 
soul and body, as plain as I feel the air which I breathe, 
or the food I eat. Perhaps the doctrines of election and 
final perseverance have been abused (and what doctrine 
has not ?) ; but, notwithstanding, it is children's bread, 
and ought not in my opinion to be withheld from them, 
supposing it is always mentioned with proper cautions 
against the abuse. Dear and honoured sir, I write not 
this to enter into disputation. I hope at this time I feel 
something of the meekness and gentleness of Christ. I 
cannot bear the thoughts of opposing ; but how can I 
avoid it, if you go about, as your brother Charles once 
said, to drive John Calvin out of Bristol ? Alas ! I never 
read anything that Calvin wrote ; my doctrines I had 
from Christ and His apostles ; I was taught them of God. 
My business seems to be chiefly in planting ; if God send 
you to water, I praise His name. I wish you a thousand- 
fold increase. I find there is disputing among you about 
election and perfection. I pray God to put a stop to it ; 
for what good end will it answer ? I wish I knew your 
principles fully. Did you write oftener, and more frankly, 
it might have a better effect than silence and reserve.' 
Whitefield was thoroughly consistent in his pleadings for 
peace. His complaint that Wesley w T as silent and re- 
served came from his deep dislike of having anything 
hidden. To ' walk with naked hearts together ' was his 
conception of brotheiiiness and friendship ; and his pa- 
tience was taxed by the cooler temperament of his friend. 
Longer consideration might have led him to believe that 
Wesley's silence was a sign of unwillingness to dispute ; 
but an ardent nature like his cannot understand such pro- 
found self-possession. The day after he wrote to Wesley 



VISIT TO NEW ENGLAND. 



225 



lie wrote to a friend in Bristol, and said : 4 1 hear there 
are divisions among you. Avoid them if possible. The 
doctrines of election and final perseverance I hold as well 
as you. But then they are not to be contended for with 
heat and passion. Such a proceeding will only prejudice 
the cause you would defend. Pray show this to your 
other friends. Exhort them to avoid all clamour and 
evil speaking, and with meekness receive the engrafted 
word w T hich is able to save your soul' 

Ehode Island was expecting its visitor. He reached 
Newport just after the beginning of Sunday evening ser- 
vice, and sat in the church undiscovered, as he thought ; 
but friendly eyes had marked him ; and, after sermon, a 
gentleman asked him whether his name was not White- 
field. ' Yes, it was.' Then the unknown friend would 
provide lodgings for him and his party. Soon a number 
of gentlemen, chief of them all old Mr. Clap, an aged 
dissenting minister, who had held his charge for forty 
years and was much esteemed for his good works, came 
to pay their respects to him. The minister of the Church 
of England consented to White-field's preaching in his 
pulpit. The Assembly one day adjourned its sitting to 
attend divine worship. The people became so eager after 
the truth, that Whitefield could not move about the town, 
even in the darkness of the evening, without being no- 
ticed and followed. A thousand of them once crowded 
round a friend's house which he had thought to visit pri- 
vately, and others came into the house until every room 
was filled. Taking his stand on the threshold, he 
preached for nearly an hour from the appropriate text, 
4 Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteous- 
ness ; for they shall be filled.' The same respect was 
shown him at Bristol ; but his heart was cold in his work, 
and others seemed to feel little. When he had approached 
within four miles of Boston, he was met by the governor's 
son, several other gentlemen, and two ministers ; tlie 

Q 



226 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIBLD. 



brother-in-law of Dr. Colman received him to his house ; 
the governor of Massachusetts, Jonathan Belcher, was 
gratified that he had come, and gave him his special 
friendship ; the Commissary was polite, but declined to 
give him the use of the church. Once again were the 
meeting-houses and the fields to be his sanctuaries. But, 
before we mingle with the crowds which thronged them, 
it will be necessary to pay some attention to several 
packets of letters which came to him at Boston imme- 
diately after his arrival. 

The friends from England wrote him strange things. 
The Methodist camp was distracted with the cries of two 
sections of theologians, holding respectively the views of 
Wesley and Whitefield. To have his favourite doctrine 
of election contested and spoken against, had troubled 
Whitefield ; to see a new doctrine, that of perfection, ex- 
alted in its place, ruffled him still more ; and the news 
which came to Boston made him offer his first words of 
expostulation. His letter to a friend in England shows 
that he was becoming disturbed by the news which again 
and again came to his ears. ' Sinless perfection,' he wrote, 
6 1 think, is unattainable in this life. Show me a man that 
could ever justly say " I am perfect." It is enough if we 
can say so when we bow down our heads and give up 
the ghost. To affirm such a thing as perfection, and to 
deny final perseverance, w T hat an absurdity is this ! To 
be incapable of sinning, and capable of being damned, is 
a contradiction in terms. From such doctrine may I ever 
turn away ! I pray my Lord to carry on His work in 
London, and to keep His church from errors ; but there 
must be a sifting time as well as a gathering time.' To 
How^el Harris he expressed his fears for his place in the 
affection of his English converts. ' Some of Fetter Lane 
Society, I fear, are running into sad errors ; but this 
happens for our trial, especially mine. Those that before, 
I suppose, would have plucked out their eyes for me, 



ELECTION AND REPROBATION. 227 

now, I suspect, I shall see very shy, and avoiding me. 
My coming to England will try my fidelity to my Master.' 
His manner to Wesley was the impatience of an unheeded 
affection : 4 Honoured sir,' he began, 4 this is sent in answer 
to your letter dated March 25. I think I have for some- 
time known what it is to have righteousness, joy, and 
peace in the Holy Ghost. These, I believe, are the pri- 
vileges of the sons of God ; but I cannot say I am free 
from indwelling sin. I am sorry, honoured sir, to hear by 
many letters that you seem to own a sinless perfection in 
this life attainable. I think I cannot answer you better 
than a venerable old minister in these parts answered a 
Quaker : " Bring me a man that hath really arrived to 
this, and I will pay his expenses, let him come from 
where he will." I know not what you may think ; I do 
not expect to say indwelling sin is finished and destroyed 
in me, till I bow down my head and give up the ghost. 
Besides, dear sir, what a fond conceit is it to cry up per- 
fection, and yet cry down the doctrine of final perseve- 
rance ! But this and many other absurdities you will 
run into, because you will not own election ; and you will 
not own election, because you cannot own it without be- 
lieving the doctrine of reprobation. What then is there 
in reprobation so horrid? I see no blasphemy in holding 
that doctrine, if rightly explained. If God might have 
passed by all, He may pass by some. Judge whether it 
is not a greater blasphemy to say, " Christ died for souls 
now in hell." Surely, dear sir, you do not believe there 
will be a general gaol delivery of damned souls hereafter. 
Oh that you would study the covenant of grace ! Oh that 
you were truly convinced of sin and brought to the foot 
of sovereign grace ! Elisha Cole, on " God's Sovereignty," 
and 44 Veritas Redux," written by Doctor Edwards, are 
well worth your reading. But I have done. If you think 
so meanly of Bunyan and the Puritan writers, I do not 
wonder that you think me wrong. I find your sermon 



228 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



has had its expected success ; it hath set the nation a 
disputing ; you will have enough to do now to answer 
pamphlets ; two I have already seen. Oh that you would 
be more cautious in casting lots ! Oh that you would not 
be too rash and precipitant ! If you go on thus, honoured 
sir, how can I concur with you ? It is impossible ; I 
must speak what I know.' 

That ' great blasphemy,' if blasphemy it be, was not 
altogether avoided by Whitefield himself, who, in the 
most impassioned way, would call upon his hearers to 
tell him how he could let souls perish for whom Christ 
died : no phrase recurs with greater frequency in his 
tenderest passages. Neither need much emphasis be laid 
upon the doctrine of reprobation, which he seemed to 
regard with unruffled complacency and satisfaction. It 
was only in his letters and in his talk that it got such 
honourable mention. His sermon on £ The Potter and 
the Clay,' which might fairly have been supposed to be 
built upon this conception of election and reprobation, 
rests on a far different foundation — the old foundation of 
all theology. Every son of man is, in the sight of God, 
4 only as a piece of marred clay ; ' being marred, he must 
necessarily be renewed by the Holy Ghost : 6 a short word 
of application ' winds up the whole discourse. After 
declaring, in his own exultant way, that 4 to deliver a 
multitude of souls of every nation, language, and tongue, 
from so many moral evils, and to reinstate them hi an 
incomparably more excellent condition than that from 
whence they are fallen, is an end worthy the shedding of 
such precious blood ' as the blood of the Lord Jesus, he 
asks whether this religion £ is not noble, rational, and truly 
divine ? ' ' And why then,' he continues, 6 will not all that 
hitherto are strangers to this blessed restoration of their 
fallen natures (for my heart is too full to abstain any 
longer from an application), why will you any longer dis- 
pute, or stand out against it ? Why will you not rather 



BOSTON. 



220 



bring your clay to this heavenly Potter, and say from your 
inmost souls, " Turn us, good Lord! and so shall we be 
turned ? " This you may and can do ; and if you go 
thus far, who knows but this very day, yea this very 
hour, the heavenly Potter may take you in hand, and 
make you vessels of honour fit for the Eedeemer's use ? ' 

The Boston meeting-houses were filled to the utmost 
of their large dimensions by the congregations which 
crowded to hear the famous clergyman. A terrible and 
unaccountable panic seized one of the congregations as 
it was awaiting his appearance. Some threw themselves 
out of the gallery, others leaped from the windows, and 
some of the strong trampled upon the weak. When he 
came it was a scene of wild confusion. His invincible 
presence of mind did not forsake him, and he announced 
his intention to preach on the common. Many thousands 
followed him through the rain into the field, but there 
were five dead persons left behind in the meeting-house, 
and others were dangerously wounded. The calamity, 
which weighed heavily on his spirits, in nowise damaged 
his popularity ; because, notwithstanding the painful sel- 
fishness shown by some of the people in the meeting- 
house, there was a real desire to know the truth. 

Neighbouring towns were not forgotten. One of his 
excursions extended over one hundred and seventy-eight 
miles, and had sixteen preachings, yet he returned to 
Boston without being in the least fatigued. The students 
of Cambridge had several visits from him, and his lan- 
guage to them was, according to his after confession, 
made in the most public manner both from the pulpit 
and the press, both harsh and uncharitable. He suffered 
himself to be guided too much by hearsay; and there 
are always plenty of alarmists who can find nothing but 
heresy in tutors, and worldliness in students. 

One of his greatest pleasures was to meet with the 
many aged, devout ministers who were in Boston and 



230 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



its neighbourhood. Old Mr. Clap of Ehode Island, a 
bachelor, who gave away all his income to the poor and 
needy, and stood the constant friend of children, servants, 
and slaves through a ministry of forty years, the most 
venerable man Whitefield had ever seen, a very patriarch 
in the eyes of the young Puritan-worshipper — him we 
have seen among his own people. There was also old 
Mr. Walters, of Eoxbury, whose ministry with that of his 
predecessor, Eliot, the apostle of the Indians, had lasted 
in the Eoxbury congregation one hundred and six years. 
He complimented Whitefield at the governor's table by 
calling one of his sermons 'Puritanisnnis redivivus.' Then 
there was 4 the reverend Mr. Eogers, of Ipswich,' who 
lived to hear three of his sons and a grandson preach 
the gospel : t\\Qj were all labouring in Whitefield's day. 
York was blessed with e one Mr. Moody, a worthy, plain, 
and powerful minister of Jesus Christ, though now much 
impaired by old age,' says Whitefield. One who had 
lived by faith for many years, and had been much des- 
pised by bad men, and as much respected by 4 the true 
lovers of the blessed Jesus,' was just the kind of man to 
attract Whitefield, and accordingly he went to York on 
purpose to see him. Puritan habits still obtained in Xew 
England ; Whitefield relates with satisfaction that the 
4 Sabbath in New England begins on Saturday evening, 
and perhaps is better kept by the ministers and people 
than in any other place in the known (!) world.' 1 

The generosity of Boston was not behind that of any 
place. At Dr. Sewall's meeting-house an afternoon con- 
gregation gave five hundred and fifty-five pounds to the 
orphanage ; and on the same day, at Dr. Colman's meet- 
ing-house, a second afternoon congregation gave four 
hundred and seventy pounds. The immense number of 

1 Forty years ago a much esteemed Dissenting minister and college tutor 
at Itotherham kept up this Puritan habit in his family. The name of Dr. 
Bennet is still mentioned with respect for miles around Rotherham. 



DRESS. 



231 



people slowly, and as if unwilling to depart without 
giving, left the meeting-house ; the minister said that it 
was the pleasantest time he had ever enjoyed in that place 
throughout the whole course of his life. There must 
have been something thoroughly good in these 4 Lord 
Brethren.' 

By what power of compression Whiten" eld. contrived 
to press five different services into the Sunday when he 
got those noble collections is not clear, and the perplexity 
is increased on finding that three letters bear the date of 
that autumn day. Well might his animal spirits be 
almost exhausted, and his legs be almost ready to sink 
under him at night. One of the letters, the longest, 
relieved the day with a good humoured piece of banter, 
sent to a brother whose weak mind had been disturbed 
by Whitefield's neatness of dress; for things were very 
different from the Oxford days, when he neglected him- 
self that he might be a good Christian. Now his dress 
and everything about him was kept in scrupulous order. 
Not a paper in his room was allowed to be out of its 
place, or put up irregularly : every chair and piece of 
furniture was properly arranged when he and his friends 
retired for the night. He thought he could not die easy 
if he had an impression that his gloves were mislaid. 4 1 
could not but smile ' — he wrote to his friend — 4 to find 
you wink at the decency of my dress. Alas ! my brother, 
I have known long since what it is to be in that state 
you are, in my opinion, about to enter into. I myself 
thought once that Christianity required me to go nasty. 
I neglected myself as much as you would have me for 
above a twelvemonth : but when God gave me the spirit 
of adoption, I then dressed decently, as you call it, out 
of principle ; and I am more and more convinced that 
the Lord would have me act in that respect as I do. 
But I am almost ashamed to mention any such thing.' 
The second letter of that day's date informed his friend, 



23J LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

that so many persons came to him under convictions and 
for advice that he scarce had time to eat bread. In the 
third letter he says : — 

6 Dear brother Wesley, — What mean you by disputing in all 
your letters ? May Grod give you to know yourself, and then 
you will not plead for absolute perfection, or call the doctrine 
of election a u doctrine of devils." My dear brother, take heed ; 
see you are in Christ a new creature. Beware of a false peace ; 
strive to enter in at the strait gate ; and give all diligence to 
make your calling and election sure. Eemember you are but a 
babe in Christ, if so much. Be humble, talk little, think and 
pray much. Let Grod teach you, and He will lead you into all 
truth. I love you heartily. I pray you may be kept from 
error, both in principle and practice. Salute all the brethren. 
If you must dispute, stay till you are master of the subject ; 
otherwise you will hurt the cause you would defend. Study to 
adorn the gospel of our Lord in all things, and forget not to 
pray for 

6 Your affectionate friend and servant, 

£ George Whitefield.' 

The commotion caused in Boston by his presence and 
preaching was not diminished by a report which was 
very current during one of his excursions, that he had 
died suddenly, or had been poisoned ; the people were all 
the more rejoiced to see him for their late fear that they 
had lost him. Everything fanned the name of zeal, both 
in the people and in the preacher, and the end of the 
visit was more remarkable than the beginning. The 
touching words of a little boy, who died the day after he 
heard Whitefield preach, furnished the ground of one of 
Whitefield's strongest appeals to old and young ; imme- 
diately before he died the child said, ' I shall go to Mr. 
Whitefield's God.' Old people bowed their heads in 
grief, not in anger, when the preacher, with a tenderness 
that desired the salvation of all, said, 4 Little children, if 
your parents will not come to Christ, do you come, and 



JONATHAN EDWARDS. 



233 



go to heaven without them.' Like a skilled fisher of 
men he knew that if the children were won, the salvation 
of their parents would be made more probable. The 
last congregation, which consisted of about twenty thou- 
sand, assembled on the common ; and the myriad faces, 
thoughtful, eager, attentive, the great weeping, and the 
darkening shades of evening which, towards the close of 
the service, was coming on fast, recalled Blackheath 
scenes of a year before. His labours over, Governor 
Belcher, whose attentions had been most kind and un- 
interrupted, drove him, on the Monday morning, in his 
coach to Charleston Ferry, handed him into the boat, 
kissed him, and with tears bade him farewell. Whitefield 
returned with five hundred pounds for his orphans. 

It is not, of course, to be supposed that all Boston 
yielded to his teaching. ' A small set of gentlemen ' 
attributed his power over the people to the force of 
sound and gesture, and in this they agreed with the 
judgment of Dr. Johnson, pronounced towards the close 
of Whiteheld's life. The misfortune of such theories w r as, 
that, when the sound had died away and the gesture 
could no longer be seen, many of those who had been so 
deeply moved by them continued to live a godly life. 
Nor did these converts object to attend the preaching of 
men who could boast no great histrionic talents. Or- 
dinary congregations were increased in every place of 
worship. People of all classes and all ages were 4 swift 
to hear.' 

Whiteheld's intention on leaving Boston was to proceed 
to Northampton to see Jonathan Edwards, whom he 
describes as a 4 solid, excellent Christian, but at present 
weak in body.' He also gives Edwards a place in the 
regard of the church by saying that he was the 4 grandson 
and successor to the great Stoddard,' an order of prece- 
dence which would be reversed were he writing to-day. 
A great revival had taken place at Northampton some 



'234 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

five or six years before ; and Whitefield's ministrations 
quickened afresh all the feelings of that memorable 
season. Yet the two great men did not come very close 
together. Whitefield did not make a confidential friend 
of Edwards ; and Edwards gave Whitefield very necessary 
cautions about his notions on impulses, and his habit of 
judging others to be unconverted. They, indeed, loved 
each other as servants of the same Lord, and rejoiced in 
each other's work. Edwards might be seen sitting weeping 
while his visitor preached. 

From Northampton he passed on to other places. At 
New Haven he dined with the rector of the college, Mr. 
Clap. The aged governor of the town also received him 
with tears of joy. His preaching here was upon the 
subject of an unconverted ministry; and he did not alto- 
gether avoid his Cambridge fault of censuring too hastily 
and too severely. Biding through Milford, Stratford, 
Fairfield, and Newark, at each of which he preached, he 
came to Stanford, where his words smote with unusual 
effect. Many ministers hung upon his track ; and at 
Stanford two of them confessed, with much sorrow, that 
they had laid hands on two young men without asking 
them whether they were born again of God or not. An 
old minister, who could not declare his heart publicly, 
called Whitefield and his friend Mr. Noble out, to beg, 
as well as his choking emotions would allow him, their 
prayers on his behalf. He said that although he had 
been a scholar, and had preached the doctrines of grace 
a long time, he believed that he had never felt the power 
of them in his own soul. 

At this point Whitefield set up his 'Ebenezer,' and 
gave God thanks for sending him to New England. He 
entered his impressions of what he had seen in his jour- 
nal, and his picture is worth a place on our page. ' I have 
now,' he says, 6 had an opportunity of seeing the greatest 
and most populous part of it, and, take it altogether, it 



THOUGHTS ON NEW ENGLAND. 



235 



certainly on many accounts exceeds all other provinces 
in America ; and, for the establishment of religion, per- 
haps all other parts of the world. Never, surely, was a 
place so well settled in so short a time. The towns all 
through Connecticut and eastward towards York, in the 
province of Massachusetts, near the river-side, are large, 
well peopled, and exceeding pleasant to travel through. 
Every five miles, or perhaps less, you have a meeting- 
house, and, I believe, there is no such thing as a pluralist 
or non-resident minister in both provinces. God has 
remarkably, at sundry times and in divers manners, 
poured out His Spirit in several parts of both provinces ; 
and it often refreshed my soul to hear of the faith of 
their good forefathers who first settled in these parts. 
Notwithstanding they had their foibles, surely they were 
a set of righteous men. They certainly followed our 
Lord's rule, sought first the kingdom of God and his 
righteousness, and, behold ! all other things God hath 
added unto them. Many glorious men of God have come 
out of their colleges, and many more, I trust, will be sent 
out frorn time to time, till time itself shall be no more. 
As for the civil government of New England, it seems to 
be well regulated; and I think, at opening all their 
courts, either the judge or a minister begins with a 
prayer. Family worship, I believe, is generally kept up ; 
and the Negroes I think better used in respect both to 
soul and body than in any other province I have yet 
seen : in short, I like New England exceedingly well.' 

It was with but a desponding heart, and not expecting 
any great movings of soul among his hearers, that he 
rode towards New York. His companion, Mr. Noble, 
tried to encourage him, by assuring him that his last 
visit had done good to many, and bade him look for 
great things from God. The first service was an earnest 
of things not looked for. Pemberton's meeting-house 
contained an anxious congregation on Friday morning, 



236 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 



some being hardly able to refrain from crying out ; and 
at night the excitement was greater still. On Sunday 
his soul was clown in the depths : before going to evening 
service he could only cast himself on the ground before 
God, confessing himself to be a miserable sinner, and 
wondering that Christ would be gracious to such a 
wretch. On his Avay to the meeting-house, he became 
weaker ; and when he entered the pulpit he would rather 
have been silent than have spoken. The preparation for 
his work was such as only devoutest souls, who feel a 
constant need for the comfort and aid of an invisible 
Friend, can have ; and the effect of the sermon was 
marvellous. Scarcely was it begun before the whole 
congregation was alarmed. Loud w T eeping and crying 
arose from every corner of the building. Many were so 
overcome with agitation that they fell into the arms of 
their friends. Whitefield himself was so carried away, 
that he spoke until he could hardly speak any longer. 

Larger congregations came the next day, and the feel- 
ing was still intense. In the evening he bade them fare- 
well, and carrying with him a hundred and ten pounds as 
their gift to his orphanage, passed across to Staten Island. 
At Newark the scenes of New York were renewed. The 
word fell like a hammer and like fire. Looking pale 
and sick as if ready to die, one cried as he staggered to 
the ground, 6 What must I do to be saved ? ' Whitefield's 
host from Charleston, who seemed to be accompanying him 
because of a personal affection for him, and not because of 
thorough religious sympathy w T ith him, was struck down 
and so overpowered that his strength quite left him : it 
was with difficulty he could move all the night after. 
From that time he became an exemplary Christian, 
and continued such to the last. Whdtefield w T as now 
thoroughly spent, and could only throw himself upon 
the bed, and listen to his friend Tennent while he re- 
counted a preaching excursion he had lately made. The 



PHILADELPHIA. 



237 



power of the Divine Presence passed on with them to 
Baskinriclge, where weeping penitents and rejoicing be- 
lievers prayed side by side. The apathy of many was 
changed into deep alarm, and the alarm passed into ex- 
ultant joy. 'He is come! He is come!' shouted one or 
the hearers, while Whitefield was speaking, the reve- 
lation of the Lord Jesus Christ to his soul having made 
self-restraint impossible. Most of them spent the rest of 
the night in praying and praising. 

His departure was like that of an old and well-beloved 
friend ; they crowded round his horse to shake hands 
with him : a poor Negro woman got leave from her 
master to join his company, and came prepared to go 
with him. but he advised her to go home, and serve her 
present master with a thankful heart. 

Whitefield reached Philadelphia exactly a year after 
his first visit to that city. The season of the year, 
Xovember, was too late for comfortable open-air services ; 
and the Philadelphia people, having once suffered from 
inconvenience, had made provision against it for the 
future. \Ynitefield had not been long gone when they 
determined to build a house which should be at the 
disposal of any preacher who had anything to say to 
them, but his accommodation was their first object. 
Persons were appointed to receive subscriptions ; land 
was bought ; and the building, which was one hundred 
feet long and seventy broad, begun. When White- 
field returned, it was well advanced, though the roof 
was not up. The floor was boarded, and a pulpit raised : 
and he had the satisfaction of preaching the first sermon 
in it. It afterwards became, by common consent, an 
academy as well as a preaching place, and is now the 
Union Methodist Episcopal Church. 

This visit was similar to the previous one ; only a 
success and a failure were noticeable. Brockden, the 
recorder, a man of more than threescore years, _came 



238 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 



under the power of Whitefield's words. In his youth he 
had had some religious thoughts, but the cares of busi- 
ness banished them, and he at length sunk almost into 
atheism. His avowed belief, however, was deism ; on 
behalf of which he was a very zealous advocate. At 
Whitefield's first visit he did not so much as care to see 
what his oratory was like ; and at the second visit he would 
not have gone to hear him but for the persuasion of a 
deistical friend. He went at night when Whitelield was 
preaching from the court-house steps, upon the conference 
which our Lord had with Nicodemus. Not many words 
were spoken before his interest was awakened by the con- 
viction that what he was hearing tended to make people 
good. He returned home, reaching it before his wife or any 
of his family. First his wife entered, and expressed her 
hearty wish that he had heard the sermon ; but he said 
nothing. Another member of the family came in, and 
made the same remark : still he said nothing. A third 
returned and repeated the remark again. 4 Why,' said 
he, with tears in his eyes, 4 1 have been hearing him.' 
The old man continued steadfast in the truth, and was 
privileged to have spiritual joys as deep as his teacher's. 

It was news in Philadelphia one day that Whitefield 
had failed to make his congregation cry ! He had been 
led to speak against unreasoning unbelievers — not a very 
pathetic subject — and the fountain of tears would not flow. 
c What,' said one of these same unbelievers to a friend of 
Whitefield, 4 what ! Mr. Whitefield could not make the 
people cry this afternoon.' ' A good reason for it,' was 
the reply, ' he w r as preaching against deists, and you know 
they are a hardened generation.' His eagerly expected 
preaching tour closed at Eeedy Island. 

6 Before I go on,' he said, 6 stop, my soul ! and look 
back with gratitude on what the Lord hath done for thee 
during this excursion. I think it is now the seventy-fifth 
day since I arrived at Eh ode Island. My body was then 



REVIEWS HIS WORK. 



239 



weak, but the Lord has much renewed its strength. I 
have been enabled to preach, I think, one hundred and 
seventy-five times in public, besides exhorting frequently 
in private. I have travelled upwards of eight hundred 
miles, and gotten upwards of seven hundred pounds ster- 
ling in goods, provisions, and money for the Georgia 
orphans. Never did God vouchsafe me greater comforts. 
Never did I perform my journeys with so little fatigue, 
or see such a continuance of the Divine Presence in the 
congregations to whom I have preached. " Praise the 
Lord, my soul! and all that is within me praise His 
holy name." ' 

A pleasant sail carried him to Charleston, where he 
preached a comforting sermon, to compose the minds of 
the people under heavy losses which they had sustained 
by a great fire, three hundred houses in the best part of 
the town having perished in three hours. He came next 
to Savannah, and learning that his family had been re- 
moved to their permanent house at Bethesda, he went 
thither. The great house, he found, would not be 
finished for two months longer, in consequence of the 
Spaniards having captured a schooner laden with bricks 
intended for it, and with provisions intended for the 
workmen and the children. He found also that a planter, 
who had learned of Christ at the orphanage, had sent the 
family rice and beef, and that the Indians had often 
brought in large supplies of venison when there was no 
food left. The work of religion, which was dearer to 
him than even feeding the orphan, prospered among the 
children, among the labourers, and among the people 
round about. His heart was contented with his work, 
although he was five hundred pounds in debt after all his 
exhausting labours and the generous gifts of his friends. 
He now appointed Mr. Barber to take care of the spiritual 
affairs of the institution, and intrusted to James Haber- 
sham the charge of its temporal affairs. The institution 



240 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



anticipated, in its cheerful tone and wise management, 
those well-ordered schools which in later times have 
brightened childhood's years in thousands of instances. 
Eeligion was the great concern ; but due weight was laid 
upon the connexion between its emotional and its practical 
parts. Praying might not exempt from working in the 
fields or at some trade, and spiritual delights might not 
supersede method in labour and humility of heart. The 
orphans often sang a hymn for their benefactors ; daily 
they sang to the praise of their Eedeemer ; and always 
before going to work they joined in a hymn, intended to 
teach them that they must work for their own living. 

Whitefield had carried about with him, and shown to 
several Xew England ministers, the draft of a letter which 
he had written in reply to Wesley's sermon on ' Free 
Grace ;' and on Christmas Eve, 1740, he sat down at the 
orphan-house to finish the letter, and send it to his friend. 
The sermon was a noble specimen of eloquence ; its 
thrilling denunciations of Calvinistic doctrines almost pro- 
duce the persuasion that they are as horrible and blas- 
phemous as Wesley believed them to be. The headlong 
zeal of the preacher allows no time, permits no disposi- 
tion, to reason. You must go with him : you must check 
your questions, and listen to him. At the end it seems 
as if the hated doctrines were for ever consumed in a 
flame of argument and indignation. The letter in reply 
can boast no such fine qualities ; it never rises above the 
level of commonplace. 

Whitefield's letter was headed by a short preface 
touching the probable effect of its publication, and ex- 
pressing the persuasion that the advocates of universal 
redemption would be offended ; that those on the other side 
would be rejoiced ; and that the lukewarm on both sides 
— such as were ' carried away with carnal reasoning ' — 
would wish that the matter had never been brought 
under debate. The second were very properly, but very 



VIEW OF REPROBATION. 



241 



imavailingly, asked not to triumph, nor to make a party, 
for he detested any such thing ; and the first not to be 
too much concerned or offended. The letter itself opened 
with strong affirmations of his unwillingness to take pen 
in hand against his old friend : Jonah did not go with 
more reluctance against Nineveh ; were nature to speak, 
he would rather die than do it ; he had no alternative ; he 
must be faithful to God, to his own soul, and to the souls 
of others ; the children of God were in danger of falling 
into error — nay, numbers had been misled, many of his 
own converts being among them ; a greater number were 
loudly calling upon him to show his opinion, as Wesley 
had shown his ; he must know no man after the flesh. 
After giving an account of the publishing of Wesley's 
sermon in the manner already told, the letter proposed to 
answer some of its arguments. It explained the doctrine 
of reprobation to be the divine intention to give saving 
grace through Jesus Christ only to a limited number, and 
to leave the rest to themselves, and affirmed that such 
was the teaching of Scripture and of the Church of Eng- 
land. It offered the well-known and well-worn answers 
on behalf of the Calvinistic view r to the equally well used 
objections which Arminians make to it. It held with 
unwavering firmness to the useful moral power of the 
Genevan doctrine ; and, on this point, Whitefield had a 
clear right to speak with authority. To Wesley's objec- 
tion that 4 this doctrine tends to destroy the comforts of 
religion,' &c, the letter asked with force and pertinence, 
'But how does Mr. Wesley know this, who never be- 
lieved election ? * Whitefield protested that, for his own 
part, the doctrine of election was his daily support, and 
that he should sink under a dread of impending trials, 
were he not firmly persuaded that God had chosen him 
in Christ from before the foundation of the world, and 
that the Almighty would suffer none to pluck him out of 
His hand. One paragraph was sadly illustrative of the 

R 



242 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

keenness with which men who have enjoyed each other's 
confidence can strike at weaknesses. 4 1 know,' White- 
field says, 4 you think meanly of Abraham, though he 
was eminently called the friend of God ; and, I believe, 
also of David, the man after God's own heart. No won- 
der, therefore, that in the letter you sent me not long 
since, you should tell me, " that no Baptist or Presby- 
terian writer whom you have read knew anything of the 
liberties of Christ." What! neither Bunyan, Henry, 
Flavel, Haly burton, nor any of the New England and 
Scots divines? See, dear sir, what narrow-spiritedness and 
want of charity arise from your principles, and then do 
not cry out against election any more on account of its 
being " destructive of meekness and love." ' It was a 
small matter what Wesley might think about Abraham 
or David, but Whiten eld should have abstained from 
alluding to opinions expressed in private. The last part 
of the letter was a wonderful compound of sense, love, 
and assumption. ' Dear, dear sir, be not offended ! 
For Christ's sake be not rash ! Give yourself to reading. 
Study the covenant of grace. Down with your carnal 
reasoning. Be a little child ; and then, instead of pawn- 
ing your salvation, as you have done in a late hymn book, 
if the doctrine of universal redemption be not true ; in- 
stead of talking of sinless perfection, as you have done in 
the preface to that hymn book, and making man's salva- 
tion to depend on his own free will, as you have in this 
sermon, you will compose an hymn in praise of sovereign, 
distinguishing love. You will caution believers against 
striving to work a perfection out of their own hearts, and 
print another sermon the reverse of this, and entitle it 
free grace indeed. Free, because not free to all ; but 
free, because God may withhold or give it to whom and 
when He pleases. Till you do this, I must doubt whether 
or not you know yourself. In the meanwhile I cannot 
but blame you for censuring the clergy of our Church for 



BREACH WITH WESLEY* 



243 



not keeping to their articles, when you yourself, by your 
principles, positively deny the ninth, tenth, and seven- 
teenth. Dear sir, these things ought not so to be. God 
knows my heart ; as I told you before so I declare again, 
nothing but a single regard to the honour of Christ has 
forced this letter from rne. I love and honour you for 
his sake ; and, when I come to judgment, will thank you 
before men and angels for what you have, under God, 
done for my soul. There, I am persuaded, I shall see 
dear Mr. Wesley convinced of election and everlasting 
love. And it often fills me with pleasure to think how I 
shall behold you casting your crown down at the feet of 
the Lamb, and as it were filled with a holy blushing for 
opposing the divine sovereignty in the manner you have 
done. But I hope the Lord will show you this before 
you go hence. Oh, how do I long for that day ! ' 

The letter made a shorter passage across the Atlantic 
than its writer generally did ; and having, in some un- 
explained way, fallen into the hands of the Calvinistic 
party in London, was instantly printed, and used for their 
ends, without either Whitefield's or Wesley's consent. 
A great many copies were given to Wesley's Foundry 
congregation, both at the door and in the Foundry itself. 
4 Having procured one of them,' says Wesley, 4 1 related 
(after preaching) the naked fact to the congregation, and 
told them, I will do just what I believe Mr. Whitefield 
would, were he here himself. Upon wdiich I tore it in 
pieces before them all. Everyone who had received it 
did the same ; so that, in two minutes, there was not a 
whole copy left. Ah ! poor Ahithophel ! " Ibi omnis 
effusus labor ! " ' 

At Charleston, whither Whitefield went to take ship 
for England, he had a writ served on him for revising 
and correcting a letter published by a friend, in which it 
was hinted that the clergy broke their canons. The 
warrant bore the plain mark of malevolence on its face ; 

K 2 



241 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



it commanded the apprehension of Whitefield for 'making 
and composing a false, malicious, scandalous, and infamous 
libel against the clergy ' of the province of South Carolina. 
He appeared in court, confessed to his share in the letter, 
and gave security to appear by his attorney at the next 
general quarter sessions, under a penalty of one hundred 
pounds proclamation money. He was now satisfied that 
he was a persecuted man. But that bold tongue of his 
could always inflict punishment for punishment ; and he 
did not forget to declaim, before a sympathising audience, 
against the wickedness of persecuting under the pretence 
of religion. 

Apprehensive of some difficulties that awaited him in 
England, he took ship, along with some friends, in the 
middle of January. During the whole voyage he was 
anxious for the future. One day he was yearning for a 
full restoration of friendship with the Wesleys ; the next, 
he was meditating the publication of his answer to the 
sermon on ; Free Grace,' and consoling himself with the 
thought that it was written in much love and meekness ; 
a third day he seemed to hear the Divine voice saying to 
him. 4 Fear not, speak out, no one shall set upon thee to 
hurt thee ; ' another day he was writing to Charles Wesley 
deploring the impending separation, expostulating with 
him and John as if they could undo the past, and de- 
claring that, he would rather stay on the sea for ever than 
come to England to oppose him and his brother. He 
knew not what to do, though he knew perfectly well 
what he wanted — the old friendship to be what it had 
once been, and every dividing thing, whether raised by 
himself or the brothers, done utterly away. Nor were 
his longings for peace stronger than those of Charles 
Wesley. It is painful to observe the way in which the 
two friends strove, with unavailing effort, against a tide 
which they felt was hurrying them into trouble and 
sorrow. Four months before Whitefield wrote his reply 



BREACH WITH WESLEY. 



245 



to the sermon on e Free Grace,' Charles, just recovering 
froni a severe illness, sent him a letter, 4 labouring for 
peace,' in which he used the strongest and most affection- 
ate language ; he declared that he would rather White- 
field saw him dead at his feet than opposing him ; that 
his soul was set upon peace, and drawn after Whitefield 
by love stronger than death. 4 It faints, in this bodily 
weakness,' he wrote, ' with the desire I have of your 
happiness. You know not how dear you are to me.' 1 
When Whitefield reached England, the meeting between 
them was most touching. 4 It would have melted any 
heart,' says Whitefield, 4 to have heard us weeping, after 
prayer, that, if possible, the breach might be prevented.' 
Soon afterwards, however, he submitted his letter, which 
he had had printed before leaving America, to the judg- 
ment of his friend, who returned it endorsed with these 
words, 4 Put up again thy sword into its place.' But not 
so. That evil fortune which made Wesley preach and 
print a sermon on one of the profoundest subjects, under 
the provocation of an anonymous letter, and at the dicta- 
tion of a lot ; which prevailed over Charles' loving letter, 
and tempted Whitefield to pen and print his reply, still 
hovered near, and soon triumphed over the counsel of 
love and wisdom which was heeded only for awhile. 
At first he said that he would never preach against the 
brothers, whatever his private opinion might be. Then 
his doctrines seemed to him to be too important to be 
held back ; and when he went to the Foundry, at the in- 
vitation of Charles, to preach there, he so far forgot him- 
self, though Charles was sitting by him, as to preach 
them, according to the testimony of John, 4 in the most 
peremptory and offensive manner.' When John, who 
had been summoned to London, met him, he was so far 
from. listening to compromise as to say, that 4 Wesley and 

1 ' The Journal of the Be v. Charles Wesley, M.A.' by Thomas Jackson, 
vol. ii. p. 167. 



246 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFJELD. 



he preached two different gospels, and therefore he not 
only would not join with him, or give him the right hand 
of fellowship, but would publicly preach against him 
wheresoever he preached at all.' He next ungenerously 
accused Wesley of having mismanaged things at Bristol, 
and perverted the school at Kingswood to improper uses, 
foreign to the intention with which the school had been 
undertaken. It was easy for the accused to answer all 
that was alleged against him ; but, unfortunately, he took 
occasion, at the same time, to indulge in most irritating 
language towards Whitefield. He assumed an air of 
superiority, of patronage and pity, which would have 
ruffled many a cooler man than his former friend. It 
was more taunting than kindly to write, * How easy were 
it for me to hit many other palpable blots in that which 
you call an answer to my sermon ! And how above 
measure contemptible would you then appear to all im- 
partial men, either of sense or learning ! But I spare 
you ; mine hand shall not be upon you ; the Lord be 
judge between thee and me. The general tenor, both of 
my public and private exhortations, when I touch thereon 
at all, as even my enemies know, if they would testify, is, 
" Spare the young man. even Absalom, for my sake !"' 

It may be safely affirmed that the two friends would 
not. have quarrelled had they been left to themselves. 
They were the unwilling heads of rival parties among their 
own converts. • Many. I know,' said Charles Wesley in 
his letter to Whitefield, ; desire nothing so much as to see 
George Whitefield and John Wesley at the head of dif- 
ferent parties, as is plain from their truly devilish plans 
to effect it ; but. be assured, my dearest brother, our 
heart is as your heart." Whitefield, as we have seen 
from his American letters, received embittering news 
from home ; and on his arrival his ear was assailed by 
reports from brethren who were already openly opposed 
to Wesley and to those who held his views. True, there 



BREACH WITH WESLEY. 



247 



was also the anger of Wesley on account of WMtefield's 
indefensible breach of confidence ; and that and the 
meddling of partisans did more damage than the doctrines 
in dispute. The matter may be summed up thus : Wesley 
was wrong in the beginning : 1. In attacking Whitefield's 
views at the taunt of an anonymous enemy ; lie struck 
the first blow, and struck it without a sufficient cause. 
2. In printing and publishing his sermon because of a 
lot. 3. In using irritating language to his opponent. 
Whitefield was wrong : 1. In yielding his mind to the 
influence of inflaming representations sent to him from 
England, and made to him when he returned home. 2. 
In exposing private opinions and deeds. 3. In preaching 
his peculiar views in the chapel of the Wesleys. 

It is but a sad task to record these things, and the 
evident worth of the chief actors makes it ail the more 
painful. Happily, the course of events soon took a dif- 
ferent direction ; and the shadow resting upon the close 
of this chapter and the opening of the next will soon be 
seen breaking and vanishing awav. 



248 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



CHAPTEE IX. 
March, 1741, to August, 1744. 

LOSS OF POPULARITY FIRST VISIT TO SCOTLAND CONDUCT OF THE 

DISSENTERS. 

It was a dark report which Whitefield had to send to his 
family ; and no little anxiety would be felt at the orphan- 
house when the following letter, addressed to Habersham, 
arrived : — 

' London, March 2o, 1741. 
6 My dear Sir, — I wrote to you immediately on my coming on 
shore. We arrived at Falmouth last Wednesday was sevennight, 
and got here the Sunday following. Blessed be Grod we had a 
summer's passage. Many of our friends, I find, are sadly divided, 
and, as far as I am able to judge, have been sadly misled. Congre- 
gations at Moorfields and Kennington Common on Sunday were 
as large as usual. On the following week days, quite the con- 
trary ; twenty thousand dwindled down to two or three hundred. 
It has been a trying time with me. A large orphan family, con- 
sisting of near a hundred, to be maintained about four thousand 
miles off, without the least fund, and in the dearest part of his 
majesty's dominions : also, above a thousand pounds in debt for 
them, and not worth twenty pounds in the world of my own, 
and threatened to be arrested for three hundred and fifty pounds 
drawn for in favour of the orphan-house by my late dear de- 
ceased friend and fellow-traveller Mr. Seward. My bookseller, 
who, I believe, has got some hundreds by me, being drawn 
away by the Moravians, refuses to print for me ; and many, very 
many of my spiritual children, who at my last departure from 
England would have plucked out their own eyes to have given 
to me, are so prejudiced by the dear Messrs. Wesleys' dressing 
up the doctrine of election in such horrible colours, that they 
will neither hear, see, nor give me the least assistance ; yea, 
some of them send threatening letters that Grod will speedily 



LOSS OF POPULARITY. 



249 



destroy me. As for the people of the world, they are so em- 
bittered by my injudicious and too severe expressions against 
Archbishop Tillotson and the author of the " Whole Duty of 
Man," that they fly from me as from a viper ; and, what is most 
cutting of all, I am now constrained, on account of our differing 
in principles, publicly to separate from my dear, dear old friends, 
Messrs. John and Charles Wesley, whom I still love as my own 
soul ; but, through infinite mercy, I am enabled to strengthen 
myself in the Lord my (rod. I am cast down, but not destroyed ; 
perplexed, but not in despair. A few days ago, in reading 
Beza's " Life of Calvin," these words were much pressed upon 
me — " Calvin is turned out of Geneva, but, behold, a new 
Church arises ! " Jesus, the ever-loving, altogether lovely Jesus, 
pities and comforts me. My friends are erecting a place, 
which I have called a tabernacle, for morning's exposition. I 
have not, nor can I as yet make, any collections ; but let us not 
fear. Our heavenly Father, with whom the fatherless find 
mercy, will yet provide ; let us only seek first the kingdom 
of (rod and His righteousness, and all other necessary things 
shall be added unto us. In about a fortnight, though I scarce 
know an oak from a hickory, or one kind of land from another, 
I am subpoenaed to appear before parliament, to give an account 
of the condition of the province of Greorgia when I left it.' 

The faith in which he began the orphanage did not fail 
him when he was threatened with arrest for debt. He 
one night cast himself on his knees before God, and with 
strong crying and tears entreated help and deliverance ; 
he pleaded that it was not for himself that he asked any- 
thing, but only for the poor ; he thought how Professor 
Franek obtained weekly help for his orphans, and that as 
his were four thousand miles from home he might run 
upon larger arrears. Then he could lie down to rest, 
satisfied that an answer would be given. Early next 
morning a friend came to inquire if he knew where a 
lady of his acquaintance might lend three or four hundred 
pounds. Whitefield replied, ' Let her lend it to me, and 
in a few months, God willing, she shall have it again.' 
All the circumstances were told her, and she cheerfully 



250 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITBFIBLD. 



put the money into his hands. He was an outcast for 
awhile. Every church was closed against him ; the 
Wesleys could not have him in their pulpits, seeing he 
preached against them by name ; there was no way of 
gathering a congregation but by taking his stand in the 
open air daily ; and he determined to begin on the old 
battle-ground — Moorfields — on Good Friday. Twice a 
day he walked from Leadenhall to Moorfields, and 
preached under one of the trees. His own converts for- 
sook him ; some of them would not deism him a look as 
they passed by ; others put their fingers into their ears, 
either to preserve them from the contamination of one 
Calvimstic word, or to ward off the witchery of that 
charming voice which never charmed in vain. Thus he 
held on his way amid contempt and hatred, not doubt- 
ing that he must again win the hearts of the people for his 
Lord and Master. He called Cennick to his aid from 
Kingswood, and a few ' free grace Dissenters ' stood firmly 
by him. It was decided bv them to build a lar^e wooden 
shed for the congregations, which would serve until 
he should return to America ; and, accordingly, they 
borrowed a piece of ground in Moorfields, and set a 
carpenter to work upon the erection, which, by the name 
of the Tabernacle, was opened and filled within two 
months of Whitefield's landing; in Eno-land. Crowds 
were gathered together in it to hear early morning 
lectures. But it had one drawback in standing so near 
the Foundry, and Whitefield abhorred the appearance of 
opposition to his old friends the Wesleys. However, a 
fresh awakening began immediately : the congregations 
grew rapidly ; and, at the people's request, he called in 
the help of a number of laymen, necessity reconciling 
him to the idea. Here again, as in open air preaching, 
he was the forerunner of Wesley. 

His experience at Bristol, to which he paid a visit 
•before his Tabernacle in London was erected, was similar 



TROUBLES AT KINGSWOOD. 



251 



to that at London. The house at Kingswood which he 
had founded, for which he had preached and begged, 
and which was associated with his first holy works among 
the colliers, was denied him. Busy bodies on both sides 
carried tales and stirred up strife. He listened too much 
to them, and a breach ensued. Still there was some- 
thins stronger in the hearts of these mistaken, angry 
Methodists on both sides, than abhorrence of their 
respective tenets ; for Whitefield gratefully records that, 
though different in judgment, they were one in affection ; 
that both aimed at promoting the glory of their common 
Lord ; and that they agreed in endeavouring 4 to convert 
souls to the ever blessed Mediator.' As for Whitefield 
himself, no part of his career displays his completeness 
of devotion to the Lord Jesus more perfectly than this, 
in which he took the ingratitude of his spiritual children 
with sorrowful meekness, in which he welcomed rebukes 
as 4 a very little child,' in which he carried his burden of 
debt for the orphans without once regretting his respon- 
sibility, in which he found time to intercede with one 
friend to write to his 4 dear little orphans, both boys and 
girls,' and to thank another for his kindness to them, in 
which the peace and comfort of his heart through the 
gospel never failed him for an hour. All his healthful- 
ness of soul got free play when once the storm had 
discharged itself. It was with profound relief that he 
wrote to his friend the Independent Minister of Charleston, 
saying that he thought 4 the heat of the battle was pretty 
well over,' and that the word of God was running and 
being glorified. That kind hand which had supported 
him through so many difficulties, and on which he leaned 
like a little child, cleared his way surprisingly. One clay 
when he found himself forsaken and almost quite penni- 
less, his suspense was broken by a stranger coming and 
putting a guinea into his hand ; then something seemed 
to say, 4 Cannot that God, who sent this person to give 



252 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

thee this guinea, make it up fifteen hundred ? ' And 
the inward voice was not untrue ; soon he was making 
his apostolic circuit in Wiltshire, Essex, and other coun- 
ties, and everywhere his orphans found friends. 4 Field- 
preaching,' he said, 4 is my plan ; in this I am carried as 
on eagles ' wings. God makes way for me everywhere. 
The work of the Lord increases. I am comforted day 
and night.' In London he saw such triumphs of the 
gospel as he had never seen in England before. The 
whole kingdom also was opening its doors to him ; and 
soon he was to have such a list of subscribers to his 
charity as perhaps no one else ever held in his hand : he 
could count on helpers in every county of England and 
Wales, in large districts of Scotland, and in America 
from Boston to Savannah, and their number was tens of 
thousands. 

The friendly relation between Whitefield and the 
Erskines, begun by a brotherly letter from Whitefield in 
the first instance, which letter Ealph Erskine, with true 
Scottish caution, answered only after making inquiries 
about his open-hearted correspondent, now caused press- 
ing invitations to be sent from Scotland. The Erskines 
and their friends had just seceded from the Church of 
Scotland, on the ground of its corruptness, and had the 
difficult task of founding and establishing a new church. 
In this task they were naturally anxious to get all possible 
help, and looked with high expectation to the mighty 
preacher who had achieved such wonders in England and 
America, and whose theological views harmonised perfectly 
with their own, and with those of their fellow-countrymen 
generally. He was more intimate with them than with 
anyone else in Scotland, and had often said how much 
pleasure it would afford him to visit them. Accordingly, 
Ealph wrote in very urgent terms : £ Come,' he said, 4 if 
possible, dear Whitefield ; come, and come to us also. 
There is no face on earth I would desire more earnestly 



INVITED TO SCOTLAND. 



253 



to see. Yet I would desire it only in a way that, I think, 
would tend most to the advancing of our Lord's king- 
dom, and the reformation work among our hands. Such 
is the situation of affairs among us, that unless you 
came with a design to meet and abide with us, parti- 
cularly of the Associate Presbytery, and to make your 
public appearances in the places especially of their con- 
cern, I would dread the consequences of your coming, 
lest it should seem equally to countenance our perse- 
cutors. Your fame would occasion a flocking to you 
to whatever side you turn ; and if it should be in their 
pulpits, as no doubt some of them would urge, we know 
how it would be improven against us. I know not with 
whom you could safely join yourself if not with us. You 
are still dearer and dearer to me. By your last journal 
I observed your growing zeal for the doctrine of grace.' 

On the day of receiving this letter, Whitefield wrote to 
Ebenezer, and, referring to it, said, 'This morning I 
received a kind letter from your brother Ealph, who 
thinks it best for me wholly to join the Associate Pres- 
bytery, if it should please God to send me into Scotland. 
This I cannot altogether come into. I come only as an 
occasional preacher, to preach the simple gospel to all 
that are willing to hear me, of whatever denomination. 
It will be wrong in me to join a reformation as to church 
government, any further than I have light given me 
from above. If I am quite neuter as to that in my 
preaching, I cannot see how it can hinder or retard any 
design you may have on foot. My business seems to be 
to evangelise, to be a presbyter at large. I write this 
that there may not be the least misunderstanding between 
us. I love and honour the Associate Presbytery in the 
bowels of Jesus Christ. With this I send them my due 
respects, and most humbly beg their prayers. But let 
them not be offended, if in all things I cannot imme- 
diately fall in with them. Let them leave me to God. 



254 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

Whatever light He is pleased to give me, I hope I shall 
be faithful to.' The answer of Ebenezer was creditable 
to his candour ; after expressing his pleasure on hearing 
the good news of Whitefield's success, he said, 4 How 
desirable would it be to all the sincere lovers of Jesus 
Christ in Scotland, to see Him " travelling in the great- 
ness of His strength " among us also in your ministrations ! 
Truth falls in our streets. Equity cannot enter into our 
ecclesiastical courts. As our Assembly did last year eject 
us from our churches, and exclude us from our ministry 
and legal maintenance, for lifting up our reformation 
testimony, so all I can hear they have done this year is to 
appoint several violent intrusions to be made upon Chris- 
tian congregations, whereby the flock of Christ is scat- 
tered more and more upon the mountains ; for a stranger 
will they not follow, who know the Shepherd's voice. The 
wandering sheep come with their bleatings to the Asso- 
ciate Presbytery, whereby our work is daily increasing in 
feeding and rallying our Master's flock, scattered and 
offended by the Established Church. 

6 From this short glimpse of the state of matters among 
us, you will easily see what reason the Associate Pres- 
bytery have to say, come over to Scotland and help us ; 
come up to the help of the Lord against the mighty. 
We hear that God is with you of a truth, and therefore 
we wish for as intimate a connexion with you in the 
Lord as possible, for building up the fallen tabernacle of 
David in Britain ; and particularly in Scotland, when you 
shall be sent to us. This, dear brother, and no party 
views, is at the bottom of any proposal made by my 
brother Ealph in his own name, and in the name of his 
Associate Brethren. It would be very unreasonable to 
propose or urge that you should incorporate as a member 
of our Presbytery, and wholly embark in every branch of 
our reformation, unless the Father of lights were clearing 
your way thereunto ; which we pray He may enlighten 



THE ASSOCIATE PRESBYTEKY. 



255 



in His time, so as you and we may see eye to eye. All 
intended by us at present is, that when you come to 
Scotland, your way may be such as not to strengthen the 
hands of our corrupt clergy and judicatories, who are 
carrying on a course of defection, worming out a faithful 
ministry from the land, and the power of religion with it. 
Far be it from us to limit your great Master's commission 
to preach the gospel to every creature. We, ourselves, 
preach the gospel to all promiscuously who are willing to 
hear us. But we preach not upon the call and invitation 
of the ministers, but of the people, which, I suppose, is 
your own practice now in England ; and should this also 
be your way when you come to Scotland, it could do the 
Associate Presbytery no manner of harm. But if, besides, 
you could find freedom to company with us and for us, 
and to accept of our advices in your work while in this 
country, it might contribute much to weaken the enemy's 
hand, and to strengthen ours in the work of the Lord, 
when the strength of the battle is against us.' 1 

Whitefield thought that the Associate Presbytery was 
' a little too hard ' upon him, and said that if he was 
neuter as to the particular reformation of church govern- 
ment till he had further light, it would be enough ; he 
would come simply to preach the gospel, and not to 
enter into any particular connexion whatever. Had 
none but the Erskines sought a visit from him there 
can be no doubt that he would have gone to Scotland 
to preach* only in connexion with them, while abstaining 
from all interference with the points in dispute between 
them and the Kirk ; but Kirk people were as anxious as 
their rivals to see him. An opportunity was thus made 
for him to go to any party that would have him, only 
the Erskines had the first claim, and must have the first 
visit. 

1 ( The Life and Diary of the Rev. Ebenezer Erskine, A.M. &c.' By 
Donald Fraser, p. 424. 



256 LIFE AND TKAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

Full of cares he took his passage from London to Leith. 
Chief of all cares, and yet chief of all earthly joys, was 
that distant family. He hopes, when he gets aboard, to 
redeem time to answer his ' dear lambs' letters.' They 
had rejoiced him exceedingly. He begs Mr. Barber to 
be particular in the accounts — and not without reason, 
since slander was soon busy with a tale about personal 
ends which Whitefield was serving. He sends word that 
he has ordered hats and shoes for the children, and intends 
to send brother H.'s order, and other things, with some 
cash very shortly. 4 But the arrears hang on me yet. 
My Lord bears my burden ; may He bear all yours for 
you. I am persuaded He will.' When he sailed he 
found time to gratify his desire about the orphans, and 
ten of his short letters are preserved. They cannot 
compare with such charming letters as Irving wrote 
to his little daughter, and now and again the harshest 
parts of his creed appear in a most unpleasing form ; but 
love keeps breaking through every line to lend its own 
gentle light to the hearts of the little ones. 

Seven out of the ten letters were addressed to the boys. 
To one he said, ' Dear James, I do not forget you. I hope 
you will never forget the love of Christ, w T ho died and 
hath given Himself for you. Does not the very thought 
of this make you even to weep ? Do you not want some 
private place where to vent your heart ? Away, then, I 
will detain you no longer. Eetire into the woods.' It 
was in his best manner that he wrote to a child at 
Boston : — 

'My dear child, — I thank you for your letter; I neither 
forgot you nor my promise. that Grod may effectually work 
upon your heart betimes, for you cannot be good too soon, or 
too good. The little orphans at Georgia are crying out, " What 
shall we do to be saved ? " How early was Jesus in the Temple, 
first hearing, and then asking questions! How did He love the 
little children, how did He take them up in His sacred arms 



DUNFERMLINE. 



257 



and bless them ! And when He was just ascending to the highest 
heaven, how tenderly did He speak to Peter, and bid him " feed 
His lambs." Let all this encourage you to come to Him.' 

Sifting the rest of the correspondence, we come upon a 
sentence in a letter to the students at Cambridge and 
New Haven in America, who had partaken of the religious 
influence so sedulously diffused by Whitefield during his 
American tour, which is worth a place in every student's 
room, 4 Henceforward, therefore, I hope you will enter 
into your studies, not to get a parish, nor to be polite 
preachers, but to be great saints.' 

The - Mary and Ann,' after a pleasant passage, landed 
Whitefield at Leith on July 30, 1741. He was come to 
a 'generation' which Ebenezer Erskine described as 
' being generally lifeless, lukewarm, and upsitten.' Yet 
there was no little warmth about the stranger whom the 
Associate Presbytery and the Kirk both struggled for. 
Persons of distinction welcomed him, and urged him to 
preach in Edinburgh on the day of his arrival. But he 
stayed in the city only an hour, and went thence, as 
Ealph Erskine phrases it, ' over the belly of vast opposi- 
tion, and came to Ealph's house at Dunfermline at ten 
o'clock at night. Next morning guest and host conferred 
together alone upon Church matters, when Whitefield 
admitted that he had changed his views of ordination ; at 
the time of his ordination, he knew no better way, but 
now 6 he would not have it again in that way for a thou- 
sand worlds.' As to preaching, he was firm in his reso- 
lution to go wherever he was asked, into the kirk, or into 
the meeting-house. Were a Jesuit priest or a Mohammedan 
to give him an invitation, he would gladly comply, and 
go and testify against them ! Whitefield wrote to Cennick, 
telling him that Erskine had received him ' very lovingly.' 
He says, 4 1 preached to his and the townspeople ' — this 
was in the afternoon of the day after his arrival, and in 
the meeting-house — 6 a very thronged assembly. After 

*s 







258 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



I had done prayer, and named my text, the rustling made 
by opening the bibles all at once quite surprised me ; a 
scene I never was witness to before. Our conversation 
after sermon, in the house, was such as became the gospel 
of Christ. They entertained me with various accounts 
of the success of the Seceders' labours ; and, as a proof of 
God's being with them, Mr. Ealph's son-in-law told me. 
that at one of their late occasions a woman was so deeply 
affected that she was obliged to stop her mouth with an 
handkerchief to keep herself from crying out. They 
urged a longer stay, in order to converse more closely, 
and to set me right about church government and the 
Solemn League and Covenant. I informed them that I 
had given notice of preaching at Edinburgh this evening, 
but, as they desired it, I would in a few days return and 
meet the Associate Presbytery in Mr. Ealph's house. This 
was agreed on. Dear Mr. Erskine accompanied me, and 
this evening I preached to many thousands in a plaee 
called the Orphan-house Park. The Lord was there. 
Immediately after sermon, a large company, among whom 
were some of the nobility, came to salute me. Amidst 
our conversation came in a portly, well-looking Quaker, 
nephew to Messrs. Erskines, formerly a Baptist minister 
in the north of England, who, taking me by the hand, 
said, " Friend George. I am as thou art ; I am for bringing 
all to the life and power of the everlasting God ; and 
therefore, if thou wilt not quarrel with me about my hat, 
I will not quarrel with thee about thy gown." I find that 
God has blessed my works in these parts. I am most 
cordially received by many that love the Lord Jesus. I 
have just been in company with a nobleman who, I 
believe, truly fears God ; and also with a lady of fashion 
that discovers a Christian spirit indeed. I already hear 
of great divisions ; but Jesus knows how to bring order 
out of confusion.' 

The proposed conference took place at Ealph Erskine's 



CONFERENCE WITH THE SECEDERS. 259 

house on the sixth day after Whitefield's arrival in the 
country. There were present Kalph and Ebenezer 
Erskine, Alexander Moncrieff, Adam Gib, Thomas and 
James Mair, and Mr. Clarkson ; also two elders, James 
Wardlaw and John Mowbray. Ealph called the ' tryst ; ' 
and Ebenezer began the proceedings with prayer. Some 
of the venerable men had come with the persuasion that 
they would succeed in making Whitefield an Associate 
Presbyterian ; the wiser portion hoped for nothing more 
than to stagger his faith in any and every form of church 
government which was different from theirs, to keep him 
in suspense, and in the meanwhile to secure his services 
in their meeting-houses for the establishment of their 
cause. These also meant his conversion, but knew that 
it must be an affair beyond the power of a morning's 
sitting of any Presbytery ; it would be enough to enter 
into an alliance with him. Whitefield had evidently come 
to the meeting determined to keep himself from all 
alliances. The Seceders were separating from the Estab- 
lished Church on the ground that no persons holding 
' unscriptural tenets should be admitted members of the 
Church ; ' and the interpretation put upon 4 unscriptural 
tenets ' was so rigid as to mean, that any man who dif- 
fered from them in his views of church government 
should not hold communion with them. Hence their 
reason for wishing to convert Whitefield was plain. 
While they wanted him, their own narrow views bolted 
the door in his face ; then they must take him as a hope- 
ful catechumen who was looking for 'more light,' and 
who would come into their light eventually. Nor need 
any surprise be felt at such stickling for church govern- 
ment ; they were in an unenviable position of separation, 
and thus naturally anxious to prove their zeal for order 
as well as for orthodoxy. It was thus that the conver- 
sation turned upon church government, though White- 

s 2 



260 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

field went away with the impression that they also wanted 
to bring him round to the Solemn League and Covenant ! 
That was most likely a spectre in the mist. To White- 
field's question, 'Whether, supposing the Presbyterian 
government to be agreeable to the pattern shown in the 
mount, it excluded a toleration of such as Independents, 
Anabaptists, and Episcopalians, among whom there are 
good men,' Ebenezer Erskine replied, with fine dexterity, 
6 Sir, God has made you an instrument of gathering a 
great multitude of souls to the faith and profession of the 
gospel of Christ throughout England, and also in foreign 
parts ; and now it is fit that you should be considering 
how that body is to be organised and preserved ; which 
cannot be done without following the example of Paul 
and Barnabas, who, when they had gathered churches by 
the preaching of the gospel, visited them again, and or- 
dained over them elders in every city ; which you cannot 
do alone, without some two or three met together in a 
judicative capacity in the name of the Lord.' Whitefield 
answered that he could not see his way to anything but 
preaching. But, it was urged, supposing he were to die, 
the flock would be scattered, and might fall a prey to 
grievous wolves. Then he fixed himself on a resolution, 
which, with the views that he had expressed about his 
ordination, it was, no doubt, made sure he could never 
reach : ' I am of the communion of the Church of 
England,' he said ; ' none in that communion can join me 
in the work you have pointed to ; neither do I mean to 
separate from that communion until I am cast out or ex- 
communicated.' All tempers were not cool under the 
reasoning that went on ; indeed, how could nine Scots, 
each one holding to the skirts of his sacred church, keep 
cool when dealing with a prelatist? The interview ended 
in a scene. While it was being contended that one form 
of church government was divine, Whitefield, laying his 
hand on his heart, said, 6 1 do not find it here.' Alexander 



WHITEFIELD'S ECCLESIASTICAL POSITION. 



261 



MoncriefF replied, as lie rapped the bible that lay on the 
table, 4 But I find it here.' 1 

It is evident that Whitefield's ecclesiastical position for 
the future is to be judged of by these three things : — 1 . 
That he did not believe that any form of church govern- 
ment was of divine origin ; 2. That his ordination to be 
a priest of the Church of England did not any longer ac- 
cord with his conceptions of ordination to the ministerial 
functions ; 3. That he was not free to leave the Church of 
England ; he must be cast off, if the connexion must cease. 

Three days after the interview Whitefield sent an ac- 
count of it to his friend Noble of New York ; and were 
there no other reason for its insertion, the fact of its being 
almost the only letter with a touch of humour in it de- 
mands for it a place : — 

1 Edinburgh, August 8, 1741. 

c My dear Brother, — I have written you several letters ; and I 
rejoice to hear that the work of the Lord prospers in the hands 
of Messrs. Tennents, &c. I am glad that they intend to meet 
in a synod by themselves ; their catholic spirit will do good. 
The Associate Presbytery here are So confined that they will not 
so much as hear me preach, unless I only will join with them. Mr. 
Ealph Erskine, indeed, did hear me, and went up with me into 
the pulpit of the Canongate church. The people were ready 
to shout for joy ; but I believe it gave offence to his associates. 
I met mdst of them, according to appointment, on Wednesday 
last. A set of grave, venerable men ! They soon proposed to 
form themselves into a presbytery, and were proceeding to choose 
a moderator. I asked them for what purpose ? They answered, 
to discourse and set me right about the matter of church 
government and the Solemn League and Covenant. I replied 
they might save themselves that trouble, for I had no scruple 
about it, and that settling church government and preaching 
about the Solemn League and Covenant was not my plan. I 
then told them something of my experience, and how I was led 

1 'The Life and Diary of the Rev. Ealph Erskine, A.M.' By Donald 
Fraser, ch. vii. 



262 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WH1TEFIELD. 



'out into my present way of work. One in particular said he 
was deeply affected ; and the dear Mr. Erskines desired they 
would have patience with me, for that having been born and 
^bred in England, and never studied the point, I could not be 
supposed to be so perfectly acquainted with the nature of their 
covenants. One much warmer than the rest immediately re- 
plied, " that no indulgence was to be shown me ; that England 
had revolted most with respect to church government ; and that 
1, born and educated there, could not but be acquainted with 
the matter now in debate." I told him I had never yet made 
the Solemn League and Covenant the object of my study, being 
too busy about matters, as I judged, of greater importance. 
Several replied that every pin of the tabernacle was precious. 
I said that in every building there were outside and inside 
workmen ; that the latter at present was my province ; that if 
they felt themselves called to the former, they might proceed 
in their own way, and I should proceed in mine. I then 
asked them seriously what they would have me do ; the answer 
^was that I was not desired to subscribe immediately to the 
Solemn League and Covenant, but to preach only for them till 
I had further light. I asked, why only for them ? Mr. Ealph 
Erskine said, " they were the Lord's people." I then asked 
whether there were no other Lord's people but themselves ; and 
supposing all other Were the devil's people, they certainly had 
more need to be preached to, and therefore I was more and 
more determined to go out into the highways and hedges ; and 
that if the pope himself would lend me his pulpit, I would 
gladly proclaim the righteousness of Jesus Christ therein. Soon 
after this the company broke up ; and one of these otherwise 
venerable men immediately went into the meeting-house and 
preached upon these words — " Watchman, what of the night ? 
Watchman, what of the night ? The watchman said, the morn- 
ing cometh, and also the night, if ye will enquire, enquire ye ; 
return, come." I attended ; but the good man so spent himself 
in the former parts of his sermon in talking against prelacy, the 
common prayer book, the surplice, the rose in the hat, and such 
like externals, that when he came to the latter part of his 
text, to invite poor sinners to Jesus Christ, his breath was so 
gone that he could scarce be heard. What a pity that the last 
was not first, and the first last ! The consequence of all this 



RESULT OF THE CONFERENCE. 



263 



was an open breach. I retired, I wept, I prayed, and, after 
preaching in the fields, sat down and dined with them, and then 
took a final leave. At table a gentlewoman said, she had heard 
that I had told some people that the Associate Presbytery were 
building a Babel. I said, " Madam, it is quite true ; and I 
believe the Babel will soon fall down about their ears ; " but 
enough of this. Lord, what is man, what the best of men, but 
men at the best ! I think I have now seen an end of all per- 
fection. Our brethren in America, blessed be Grod ! have not 
so learned Christ. Be pleased to inform them of this letter. I 
have not time to write now. The Lord blesses my preaching 
here ; and the work, I think, is begun afresh in London. I 
preach to thousands daily, and several have applied to me 
already under convictions. I have been here about eight days. 
You may expect to hear from me shortly again. The Lord be 
with you. I love you in the bowels of Jesus Christ ; He will 
bless you for what you have done for the poor orphans. He 
comforts me on every side. free grace ! Dear Brother S. 
salutes you all. 

6 Ever yours in our common Lord, 

6 Gr. Whitefield.' 

The unfortunate close of the conference was a great 
sorrow to Ealph Erskine, who wrote to Whitefield, and 
plainly, but kindly, told him, that he was i sorrowful for 
being disappointed about Whitefield's lying open to light, 
as appeared from his declining conversation on that head ; 
and also for his coming harnessed with a resolution to 
stand out against every thing that should be advanced 
against — — ' (presumably the Established Church). 
Ealph must not be allowed to rest under the shade of 
bigotry which the words, 8 We are the Lord's people/ 
would cast over him. He may have used the very words 
in that warm discussion, when the ringing of bells and 
the expectation of sermon and the firmness of Whitefield 
threw him into confusion ; but in calmer moments, when 
meeting his seceding followers at the table of the Lord, 
he could speak as became his better self, and say, * We 



264 LIFE AND TEAVELS OF GEOKGrE WHITEFIELD. 

are far from thinking that all are Christ's friends that 
join with us, and that all are His enemies that do not. 
No, indeed.' Had the Presbytery consisted only of the 
two brothers and young David Erskine, the son of 
Ebenezer, no disruption would have come about ; neither 
would Ealph have been provoked to insinuate in a letter 
to Whitefield, that the orphan-house was making him 
temporise. 4 Indeed, dear sir,' Whitefield replied, 4 you 
mistake, if you think I temporise on account of the 
orphans. Be it far from me. I abhor the very thought 
of it.' 

There was commotion in all classes of society, and no 
small division, about this new preacher who depicted 
scenes instead of prosing over syllogisms, who appealed 
to the heart instead of turning faith and love into a 
mathematical formula. Some were against him, on the 
ground that his character was not sufficiently established ; 
and even his friends commonly called him ' that godly 
youth.' The dispute as to his character and ministrations 
found its way into a debating club in the University, 
broke it up, and separated some of the members w T ho 
were private friends. Yet he was on a flood-tide of 
popularity in the Scottish capital. He had the ear of the 
people, from the poorest to the noblest. At seven in 
the morning he had a lecture in the fields, which was 
attended by ' the common people and by persons of 
rank.' The very children of the city caught the spirit of 
his devotion, and would hear him eagerly while he read 
to them the letters of his orphans. At Heriot's Hospital, 
the boys, who had been noted as the most vvicked in the 
city, established fellowship meetings among themselves ; 
indeed children's meetings sprung up all over the city. 
Great numbers of young men met for promoting their 
Christian knowledge ; and aged Christians, who had long 
maintained an honest profession of Christianity, were 
stimulated to seek closer brotherly communion. 



EDINBURGH. 



265 



Great as was the danger of this time, Whitefield bore 
himself with humility in the midst of applause, with love 
towards his enemies, and with patience and meekness so 
exemplary under the reproaches, the injuries, and the 
slanders which were heaped upon him, that one minister 
thought that God had sent him to show him how to 
preach, and especially how to suffer. In the pulpit he 
was like a flame of fire ; among men he was most calm 
and easy, careful never to give offence, and never court- 
ing the favour of any. His temper was cheerful and 
grateful. His disinterestedness shone conspicuously in 
his refusal to accept a private contribution which some 
zealous friends thought of giving him. ' I make no 
purse/ he said ; ' what I have, I give away. " Poor, yet 
making many rich," shall be my motto still.' All that 
he cared for was his family; he would rather bear any 
burden than have it burdened. His pleadings on its 
behalf had the usual effect ; and some ' evil men ' soon 
had their tongues busy. Thousands of prayers were 
offered for him ; and thousands of lies were spread abroad 
against him. It was said that he was hindering the poor 
from paying their debts, and impoverishing their families. 
But the fact was, that his largest donations came from the 
rich. He said to his friends respecting all this slander, 
for he never noticed it publicly, ' I would have no one 
afraid of doing too much good, or think that a little 
given in charity will impoverish the country.' 1 

1 This alarm about impoverishing the country does not look so absurd, 
when it is remembered that in 1706 the total revenue of Scotland was only 
160,000Z. The question of taxation formed one of the greatest difficulties 
in the way of settling the treaty of union between England and Scotland ; 
the poor and thrifty Scotch stipulated that their oats should have some 
'bounty' extended to them ; and to encourage the growth of wool, an act 
was passed to provide that shrouds should always be used at funerals, but 
that only woollen ones should be allowed. The following story will still 
better illustrate the poverty of the nation — ' Thus we find Mr. William 
Hunter, the minister of Banff, write as follows to Carstairs— "My Lord Banff, 
upon declaring himself Protestant, has a mind to* o south, and take his place 



266 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



Edinburgh did not monopolise his labours : Glasgow, 
Dundee, Paisley, Perth, Stirling, Crief, Falkirk, Airth, 
Kinglassie, Culross, Kinross, Cupar of Fife, Stonehive, 
Benholm, Montrose, Brechin, Forfar, Cupar of Angus, 
Inverkeithing, Newbottle, Galashiels, Maxton, Hadding- 
ton, Killern, Fintry, Balfrone, and Aberdeen received a 
visit from him. His visit to Aberdeen was at the oft- 
repeated request of Mr. Ogilvie, one of the ministers of 
the Kirk, and is thus described by himself : 6 At my first 
coming here, things looked a little gloomy ; for the 
magistrates had been so prejudiced by one Mr. Bisset, 
that, when applied to, they refused me the use of the 
kirk-yard to preach in. This Mr. Bisset is colleague 
with one Mr. Ogilvie, at whose repeated invitation I 
came hither. Though colleagues of the same congrega- 
tion, they are very different in their natural tempers. 
The one is what they call in Scotland of a sweet-blooded, 
the other of a choleric disposition. Mr. Bisset is neither 
a Seceder nor quite a Kirk man, having great fault to 
find with both. Soon after my arrival, dear Mr. Ogilvie 
took me to pay my respects to him ; he was prepared for 
it, and immediately pulled out a paper containing a great 
number of insignificant queries, which I had neither time 
nor inclination to answer. The next morning, it being 
Mr. Ogilvie's turn, I lectured and preached ; the magis- 
trates were present. The congregation very large, and 
light and life fled all around. In the afternoon Mr. Bisset 
officiated ; I attended. He began his prayers as usual, 
but in the midst of them, naming me by name, he en- 
treated the Lord to forgive the dishonour that had been 

in Parliament ; and withal, because his circumstances require it, his lordship 
requires your kind influence for his encouragement, that he may undertake 
his journey. My lord's circumstances are but low." When therefore in the 
subsequent list we find Lord Banff's name credited for 11Z. 2s., we may 
safely conclude that this was the sum allowed his lordship for his travelling 
.expenses.' — 'Reign of Queen Anne,' by Earl Stanhope, pp. 251, 265, 
274,284. * 



ABEEDEEX. 



267 



put upon Him, by my being suffered to preach in that 
pulpit ; and that all might know what reason he had to 
put up such a petition, about the middle of his sermon 
he not only urged that I was a curate of the Church 
of England, but also quoted a passage or two out of 
my first printed sermons, which he said were grossly 
Arminian. Most of the congregation seemed surprised 
and chagrined, especially his good-natured colleague Mr. 
Ogilvie, who, immediately after sermon, without consult- 
ing me in the least, stood up and gave notice that Mr. 
Whitefield would preach in about half an hour. The 
interval being so short, the magistrates returned into the 
sessions-house, and the congregation patiently waited, 
big with expectation of hearing my resentment. At the 
time appointed I went up, and took no other notice of 
the good man's ill-timed zeal than to observe, in some 
part of my discourse, that if the good old gentleman had 
seen some of my later writings, wherein I had corrected 
several of my former mistakes, he would not have ex- 
pressed himself in such strong terms. The people being 
thus diverted from controversy with man were deeply 
impressed with what they heard from the word of God. 
All was hushed, and more than solemn; and on the 
morrow the magistrates sent for me, expressed themselves 
quite concerned at the treatment I had met with, and 
begged I would accept of the freedom of the city. But 
of this enough.' 

The spirit of love had been remarkably developed 
and strengthened in Whitefield since his return from 
America ; his troubles, keen and undeserved as they 
were, had proved a kindly chastening to his spirit. The 
fine frankness of his nature and the sincerity of his re- 
ligion were shown at Aberdeen in a letter which he 
wrote to Wesley, and in another to Peter Bohler, whose 
name he had mentioned in a very inoffensive way in his 
famous letter to Wesley from Bethesda. In the case of 



268 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFlELD. 



Bohler he had not sinned openly, but he knew that he 
had broken the law of charity in his own heart ; and 
such faults are much to the true Christian. 

' Aberdeen, October 10, 1741. 

6 Reverend and dear Brother, — I have for a long time ex- 
pected that yon would have sent me an answer to my last ; but 
I suppose that you are afraid to correspond with me, because I 
revealed your secret about the lot.' (That was the lot which 
Wesley drew in the Channel on his return from America, and 
which Whitefield had revealed in the Bethesda letter.) 4 Though 
much may be said for my doing it, yet I am sorry now that any 
such thing dropped from my pen ; and I humbly ask pardon. 
I find I love you as much as ever, and pray (rod, if it be His 
blessed will, that we may be all united together. It hath been 
for some days upon my heart to write to you, and this morning 
I received a letter from Brother H., telling me how he had 
conversed with you and your dear brother. May (rod remove 
all obstacles that now prevent our union ! Though I hold par- 
ticular election, yet I offer Jesus freely to every individual soul. 
You may carry sanctification to what degrees you will, only I 
cannot agree that the in-being of sin is to be destroyed in this 
life. Oh, my dear brother, the Lord hath been much with me 
in Scotland ! I every morning feel my fellowship with Christ, 
and He is pleased to give me all peace and joy in believing. 
In about three weeks I hope to be at Bristol. May all dis- 
puting^ cease, and each of us talk of nothing but Jesus and Him 
crucified! This is my resolution. The Lord be with your 
spirit. My love to Brother C. and all that love the glorious 
Immanuel. 

6 1 am, without dissimulation, ever yours, 

£ GrEORGE WHITEFlELD.' 

To Bohler he wrote, ' I write this to ask pardon for 
mentioning your name in answer to my brother Wesley's 
sermon. I am very sorry for it. Me thinks I hear you 
say, " For Christ's sake I forgive you." There have been 
faults on both sides. I think, my dear brother, you have 
not acted simply in some things. Let us confess our 
faults to one another, and pray for one another, that we 



MARRIAGE. 



269 



may be healed. I wish there may be no more dissension 
between us for the time to come. May God preserve us 
from falling out in our way to heaven ! I long to have all 
narrow-spiritedness taken out of my heart.' 

His Scotch excursion brought him more worldly honour 
than he had ever before known. He was welcomed to 
their houses by several of the nobility, and became the 
friend, correspondent, and religious helper of the Marquis 
of Lothian, the Earl of Leven, Lord Eae, Lady Mary 
Hamilton, Colonel Gardiner, Lady Frances Gardiner (wife 
of the Colonel), Lady Jean Nlinmo, and Lady Dirleton. 
Lord Leven gave him a horse to perform his journeys 
on ; the Scotch people gave him above five hundred 
pounds for his orphans. 

Biding his gift-horse, he took his way from Scotland to 
Wales to be married. Whether he preached on his 
journey or not, does not appear ; but in ten days he was 
at Abergavenny, ready 6 to be joined in matrimony ' to 
Mrs. James, a widow, of about thirty-six years of age, 
neither rich nor beautiful, ' once gay, but for three years 
last past a despised follower of the Lamb,' one of whom 
he cherished the hope that she would not hinder him in 
his work. If it be the same Mis. James of whom Wesley 
speaks in his journal but a month before the marriage — ■ 
and there is no reason to doubt it — Wesley's opinion of 
her was favourable ; for he calls her 4 a woman of candour 
and humanity,' and, we may add, courage, seeing she 
compelled some complainers, who had been free with their 
tongues in Wesley's absence, to repeat everything to his 
face. How and when Whitefielcl and she became ac- 
quainted with each other cannot be found out, but most 
probably it was when he visited Wales with Howel 
Harris, before leaving for America the second time. She 
must, in that case, have been a first love, but not a warm 
one, as the Blendon lady had supplanted her, and got 
the first offer of his hand. But the fact is, he was ' free 



270 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 

from that foolish passion which the world calls love.' 
There is, however, an Eden-like story told about the 
marriage with the matronly housekeeper, which, though 
not to be depended upon, may serve to brighten a prosaic 
event. 1 Ebenezer Jones, minister of Ebenezer Chapel, 
near Pontypool, was most happy in his marriage. His 
wife was a woman of eminent piety and strong mind ; 
they were married in youth, and years only deepened 
their affection. Mrs. Jones died first, and the afflicted 
widower would say, when speaking of the joys of another 
world, ' I would not for half a heaven but find her there.' 
Whitefield, it is said, was so enchanted with their happi- 
ness, when visiting at their house, that be immediately 
determined to change his condition, and soon paid his ad- 
dresses to Mrs. James. Alas ! he found that Mrs. James 
and Mrs. Jones were two different beings ; though very 
likely the second might have been as incompetent as the 
■first to be the wife of a perpetual traveller, who preached 
and travelled all clay and wrote letters till after midnight. 
Who could have been the wife of such a man ? Clearly 
it was a misfortune that he had not studied the seventh 
chapter of St. Paul's first epistle to the Corinthians. 

There was probably no cessation of preaching ; only a 
few days after the celebration of the marriage he wrote 
to tell an Edinburgh friend that God had been pleased to 
work by his hand since his coming to Wales. Three 
days later still he was in Bristol, building up religious 
societies, and preaching in a large hall which his friends 
had hired ; and Mrs. Whitefield was at Abergavenny, stay- 
ing till he could conveniently take her with him on his 
journeys. 2 

1 ' Life and Times of the Countess of Huntingdon/ vol. ii. p. 117. 

2 Bristol had another distinguished visitor at this time. Savage was 
detained in Newgate for a debt of eight pounds; he had worn out the 
patience and respect of his friends in the city, and no one would step in to 
help him. His best friend was Mr. Dagge, ' the tender gaoler,' whose virtues 
Johnson has praised in high terms, probably not knowing that he was 



EARLY RISING. 



271 



His appeal from the jurisdiction of the Commissary of 
Charleston was now returned to him from the Lords, 
who saw through the Commissary's enmity ; and there 
was an end of that trouble. 

His work now lay in Bristol, where he began a ' general 
monthly meeting to read corresponding letters,' and be- 
tween that place and London — the same district in which 
he Avon his first successes in itinerant preaching ; and 
everywhere the desire to hear the truth was more intense 
than ever. Finally, he went to London, taking his wife 
with him, and probably lodged with some Methodist 
friend, one carefully chosen, as he was careful about the 
homes he went to, nor was it everyone who could have 
his presence. To one London brother who wanted to have 
him and his wife he replied, 4 1 know not what to say 
about coming to your house ; for brother S. tells me you 
and your family are dilatory, and that you do not rise 
sometimes till nine or ten in the morning. This, dear 
Mr. N., will never clo for me ; and I am persuaded such a 
conduct tends much to the dishonour of God, and to the 
prejudice of your own precious soul. Be not slothful in 
business. Go to bed seasonably, and rise early. Eecleem 
your precious time ; pick up the fragments of it, that not 
one moment may be lost. Be much in secret prayer. 
Converse less with man, and more with God.' To this 
wise circumspection, and the fact that he was always the 

praising a convert of Whitefield. He says, ' He ' (Savage) 1 was treated by 
Mr. Dagge, the keeper of the prison, with great humanity ; was supported 
by him at his own table, without any certainty of recompense ; had a room 
to himself, to which he could at any time retire from all disturbance ; was 
allowed to stand at the door of the prison, and sometimes taken out into 
the fields ; so that he suffered fewer hardships in prison than he had been 
accustomed to undergo in the greatest part of his life. 

1 The keeper did not confine his benevolence to a gentle execution of his 
office, but made some overtures to the creditor for his release, though without 
effect ; and continued, during the whole time of his imprisonment, to treat 
him with the utmost tenderness and civility.' 

It is almost certain that Whitefield sometimes sat down at the keeper's 
hospitable table with that strange guest. 



272 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

guest of men of undoubted piety, or of untarnished repu- 
tation, may in part be ascribed his triumph over all the 
bass slanders of his enemies. 

London was once more a home of brethren. He could 
talk freely with the Wesleys, though he and they still 
differed widely on a certain point. He was persuaded of 
the futility and mischief of disputation, and longed for 
greater love and unity among his friends, and among all 
the followers of the Lord Jesus. He was anxious to deal 
tenderly with men of all sects, to be open, simple, and 
guileless with them. And good tidings kept coming from 
afar, while the ' word grew mightily and prevailed ' at 
home. In New England the work was 4 going on 
amazingly ; ' in Scotland the awakening was greater than 
ever ; the Spirit of God was still among the little orphans 
in Georgia ; and in Carolina, a planter, who had himself 
been converted at the orphan-house, had twelve Negroes 
on his estate 4 brought savingly home to Jesus Christ.' 
Still the cry came to him for help, so that he wished he 
had a thousand lives and tongues to give to his Lord. 
As it was, he was working himself at a perilous rate, 
sleeping and eating but little, and constantly employed 
from morning till midnight ; ' yet,' said he, 'I walk and 
am not weary, I run and am not faint.' Then, catching 
fire at the old topic, which to the last never failed to call 
forth all his joy and gratitude, he exclaimed, 4 Oh, free 
grace ! It fires my soul, and makes me long to do some- 
thing more for Jesus. It is true, indeed, I want to go 
home, but here are so many souls ready to perish for 
lack of knowledge, that I am willing to tarry below as 
long as my Master hath work for me to do.' Everything 
was helping to prepare him for another of those daring 
religious forays of which he is the most brilliant captain : 
this was the enterprise he attempted — to beat the devil 
in Moorfields on Whit Monday. The soldier is the best 
historian here : — 



WHITSUNTIDE HOLIDAYS AT MOORFIELDS. 



273 



' London, May 11, 1742. 
4 With this I send you a few out of the many notes I have 
received from persons who were convicted, converted, or com- 
forted in Moorfields during the late holidays. For many weeks 
I found my heart much pressed to determine to venture to 
preach there at this season, when, if ever, Satan's children keep 
up their annual rendezvous. I must inform you that Moorfields 
is a large spacious place, given, as I have been told, by one 
Madam Moore, on purpose for all sorts of people to divert them- 
selves in. For many years past, from one end to the other, 
booths of all kinds have been erected for mountebanks, players, 
puppet-shows, and such like. With a heart bleeding with com- 
passion for so many thousands led captive by the devil at his 
will, on Whit Monday, at six o'clock in the morning, attended 
by a large congregation of praying people, I ventured to lift up a 
standard among them in the name of Jesus of Nazareth. Perhaps 
there were about ten thousand in waiting — not for me, but for 
Satan's instruments to amuse them. Grlad was I to find that I 
had for once, as it were, got the start of the devil. I mounted 
my field-pulpit ; almost all immediately flocked around it. I 
preached on these words : " As Moses lifted up the serpent in 
the wilderness, so shall the Son of Man be lifted up," &c. They 
gazed, they listened, they wept ; and I believe that many felt 
themselves stung with deep conviction for their past sins. All 
was hushed and solemn. Being thus encouraged, I ventured out 
again at noon ; but what a scene ! The fields, the whole fields 
seemed, in a bad sense of the word, all white, ready, not for the 
Eedeemer's, but Beelzebub's, harvest. All his agents were in 
full motion — drummers, trumpeters, Merry Andrews, masters 
of puppet-shows, exhibitors of wild beasts, players, &c. &c. 
— all busy in entertaining their respective auditories. I suppose 
there could not be less than twenty or thirty thousand people. 
My pulpit was fixed on the opposite side, and immediately, to 
their great mortification, they found the number of their at- 
tendants sadly lessened. Judging that, like St. Paul, I should 
now be called, as it were, to fight with beasts at Ephesus, I 
preached from these words : " Great is Diana of the Ephesians." 
You may easily guess that there was some noise among the 
craftsmen, and that I was honoured with having a few stones, 
dirt, rotten eggs, and pieces of dead cat thrown at me, whilst 

T 



274 LIFE AND TRAVELS OP GEOKGE WHITEFIELD. 



engaged in calling them from their favourite, but lying, vani- 
ties. My soul was indeed among lions ! but far the greatest 
part of my congregation, which was very large, seemed for 
awhile to be turned into lambs. This encouraged me to give 
notice that I would preach again at six o'clock in the evening. 
I came, I saw, but what — thousands and thousands more than 
before if possible, still more deeply engaged in their unhappy 
diversions ; but some thousands amongst them waiting as 
earnestly to hear the gospel. This Satan could not brook. 
One of his choicest servants was exhibiting, trumpeting on a 
large stage ; but as soon as the people saw me in my black 
robes and my pulpit, I think all to a man left him and ran to 
me. For awhile I was enabled to lift up my voice like a 
trumpet, and many heard the joyful sound. God's people kept 
praying, and the enemy's agents made a kind of a roaring at 
some distance from our camp. At length they approached 
nearer, and the Merry Andrew, attended by others who com- 
plained that they had taken many pounds less that day on 
account of my preaching, got upon a man's shoulders, and ad- 
vancing near the pulpit attempted to slash me with a long 
heavy whip several times, but always with the violence of his 
motion tumbled down. Soon afterwards they got a recruiting 
Serjeant with his drum, &c. to pass through the congregation. I 
gave the word of command, and ordered that way might be 
made for the king's officer. The ranks opened while all marched 
quietly through, and then closed again. 1 Finding those efforts 
to fail, a large body, quite on the opposite side, assembled to- 
gether, and having got a large pole for their standard, advanced 
towards us with steady and formidable steps till they came very 
near the skirts of our hearing, praying, and almost undaunted 

1 It was some time during these early years of his ministry that, as 
Franklin relates, a drummer,, who formed one of Whitefield's open-air con- 
gregations, determined to drown Whitefield's voice by beating his drum 
violently. "Whitefield attempted to hold his own, and raised his voice to a 
very loud pitch, but all to no purpose ; he then addressed the drummer 
personally in a happy speech. ' Friend,' said he, 1 you and I serve the two 
greatest masters existing, but in different callings — you beat up for volun- 
teers for King George, and I for the Lord Jesus ; in God's name, then, let us 
not interrupt each other; the world is wide enough for both, and we may 
get recruits in abundance.' The drummer accepted the terms of peace, and 
going away in great good-humour, left the preacher in full possession of 
the field. 



WHITSUNTIDE AT MART- LE- BONE FIELDS. 



275 



congregation. I saw, gave warning, and prayed to the Captain 
of our salvation for present support and deliverance. He 
heard and answered, for just as they approached us with looks 
full of resentment, I know not by what accident they quarrelled 
among themselves, threw down their staff, and went their 
way, leaving, however, many of their company behind, who, 
before we had done, I trust were brought over to join the be- 
sieged party. I think I continued in praying, preaching, and 
singing — for the noise was too great at times to preach — about 
three hours. We then retired to the Tabernacle with my pockets 
full of notes from persons brought under concern, and read 
them amidst the praises and spiritual acclamations of thousands 
who joined with the holy angels in rejoicing that so many 
sinners were snatched, in such an unexpected, unlikely place and 
manner, out of the very jaws of the devil. This was the be- 
ginning of the Tabernacle society. Three hundred and fifty 
awakened souls were received in one day, and I believe the 
number of notes exceeded a thousand ; but I must have done, 
believing you want to retire to join in mutual praise and 
thanksgiving to God and the Lamb with 

'Yours, &c. 

6 Gk Whitefield.' 

Bare facts support the statement that some bad been 
' plucked from the very jaws of the devil.' Whitefield 
married several who had been living in open adultery ; 
one man was converted who had exchanged his wife for 
another, and given fourteen shillings to boot ; and several 
were numbered in the society whose days would in all 
probability have been ended at Tyburn. But his exploits 
were not ended. Here is a second letter : — 

< London, May 15, 1742. 
6 My dear Friend, — Fresh matter of praise ; bless ye the 
Lord, for He hath triumphed gloriously ! The battle that was 
begun on Monday was not quite over till Wednesday evening, 
though the scene of action was a little shifted. Being strongly 
invited, and a pulpit being prepared for me by an honest Quaker, 
a coal merchant, I ventured on Tuesday evening to preach at 
Mary-le-bone Fields, a place almost as much frequented by 

T 2 



276 LIFE ASD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



boxers, gamesters, and such like, as Moorfields. A vast con- 
course was assembled together, and as soon as I got into the 
field-pulpit their countenance bespoke the enmity of their heart 
against the preacher. I opened with these words — " I am not 
ashamed of the gospel of Christ ; for it is the power of God 
unto salvation to every one that believeth." I preached in 
great jeopardy ; for the pulpit being high and the supports not 
well fixed in the ground, it tottered every time I moved, and 
numbers of enemies strove to push my friends against the sup- 
porters in order to throw me down. But the Eedeemer stayed 
my soul on Himself, therefore I was not much moved, unless 
with compassion for those to whom I was delivering my Master's 
message, which, I had reason to think, by the strong impressions 
that were made, was welcome to many. But Satan did not 
like thus to be attacked in his strongholds, and I narrowly 
escaped with my life ; for as I was passing from the pulpit to 
the coach, I felt my wig and hat to be almost off. I turned 
about, and observed a sword just touching my temple. A young 
rake, as I afterwards found, was determined to stab me ; but a 
gentleman, seeing the sword thrusting near me, struck it up 
with his cane, and so the destined victim providentially escaped. 
Such an attempt excited abhorrence ; the enraged multitude soon 
seized him, and had it not been for one of my friends who re- 
ceived him into his house, he must have undergone a severe 
discipline. The next day I renewed my attack in Moorfields ; 
but, would you think it ? after they found that pelting, noise, 
and threatenings would not do, one of the Merry Andrews got 
up into a tree very near the pulpit, and shamefully exposed his 
nakedness before all the people. Such a beastly action quite 
abashed the serious part of my auditory, whilst hundreds of 
another stamp, instead of rising up to pull down the unhappy 
wretch, expressed their approbation by repeated laughs. I 
must own at first it gave me a shock : I thought Satan had 
now almost outdone himself; but recovering my spirits, I ap- 
pealed to all, since now they had such a spectacle before them, 
whether I had wronged human nature in saying, after pious 
Bishop Hall, " that man, when left to himself, is half a devil 
and half a beast ;" or, as the great Mr. Law expressed himself, 
" a motley mixture of the beast and devil." Silence and atten- 
tion being thus gained, I concluded with a warm exhortation, 



ADAM GIB. 



277 



and closed our festival enterprises in reading fresh notes that 
were put up, praising and blessing Grod amidst thousands at 
the Tabernacle for what He had done for precious souls, and on 
account of the deliverances He had wrought out for me and 
His people. I could enlarge ; but being about to embark in 
the " Mary and Ann " for Scotland, I must hasten to subscribe 
myself, 

'Yours, &c. 

6 Gr. Whitefield. 

6 P.S. I cannot help adding, that several little boys and girls, 
who were fond of sitting round me on the pulpit while I 
preached, and handing to me people's notes, though they were 
often pelted with eggs, dirt, &c. thrown at me, never once gave 
way ; but on the contrary, every time I was struck, turned up 
their little weeping eyes, and seemed to wish they could receive 
the blows for me. Grod make them in their growing years 
great and living martyrs for Him who out of the mouth of 
babes and sucklings perfects praise ! ' 

Whitefield, accompanied by his wife, now went from 
the excitement of London to that of Scotland ; and, hap- 
pily, the voyage afforded him a few days for quieter en- 
gagements, before rushing into the heat of an immense 
' revival.' Most of his time on board ship was spent in 
secret prayer. He landed at Leith on June 3, 1742, 
amid the blessings and tears of the people, many of whom 
followed the coach up to Edinburgh, again to welcome 
him when he stepped out. 

But all hearts were not glad for his return. The 
Associate Presbytery — still smarting under the rebuff of 
the preceding year, driven to the greater vehemence for 
their testimony the more they saw it unheeded, and made 
the more contentious by the 6 foreigner's ' low estimate of 
their 6 holy contendings ' — were full of wrath. Even the 
Erskines were unfriendly. But the most conspicuous 
enemy was Adam Gib, of Edinburgh, one of the vene- 
rable nine with whom Whitefield had the amusing inter- 
view at Dunfermline. Gib was resolved to expose 



278 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

Whitefield, and thus to deliver his own soul, and, it might 
be, the souls of the poor deluded, devil-blinded people 
that crowded to hear the deceiver. Accordingly he 
■ published, in the New Church at Bristow, upon Sabbath, 
June 6, 1742, " A Warning against Countenancing the 
Ministrations of Mr. George Whitefield ; " ' and certainly 
the trumpet gave no uncertain sound. He disclaimed 
any intention of speaking ' anent the personal character 
or condition of the foreigner meant, or anent what might 
be his scope and aim in his present management, but 
anent the scope of his ministrations.' The indictment 
was this : — 4 That the preacher we speak of, his present 
ministrations have a direct tendency to introduce among 
us a latitudinarian scheme ; and particularly to make men 
mere sceptics as to the discipline and government of the 
house of God. True, indeed, this is propagate under a 
very specious pretence — a pretence of universal charity 
for good men that differ about these things.' Whitefield 
was unhesitatingly declared to be one of the false Christs 
of whom the Church is forewarned in St. Matthew xxiv. 
24 ; and as a proof of this it was alleged, that the world 
was set a -wondering after him ! Were not Scottish 
ministers employed in glorifying him by their letters and 
otherwise? 'Upon March 26, 1740,' had not 'Josiah 
Smith, a minister in South Carolina, turned so barefaced 
in Christing Mr. Whitefield, that he preached a whole 
sermon upon him from Job xxxii. 17, wherein gospel doc- 
trine was vindicated as his doctrine, and for his credit?' 
Had not 4 that unparalleled and awful sermon been printed 
at Boston, with a preface by Messieurs Colman and 
Cooper, wherein they recommend the author, and his 
doctrine of Mr. Whitefield thus — what he has seen and 
heard, that declares he unto us ? ' Worse than that, and 
to bring the matter home to Scotsmen, had not ' this 
sermon and preface been lately reprinted at Glasgow by 
Mr. Whitefield's friends, and in a way of approbation?' 



A WARNING AGAINST WHITE FIELD. 



279 



The ' Warning ' caused such a commotion that Gib 
was urged to publish, and taking this as a hint from 
Providence that he should finish his holy task, he ex- 
panded a short sermon of eight pages into an 6 Appen- 
dix' of fifty-seven — thus getting ample scope to make 
his charges, and to prove them, if that were possible. 
Gib shows, in his own way, 4 that Mr. Whitefield was 
no minister of Jesus Christ ; that his call and coming to 
Scotland were scandalous ; that his practice was dis- 
orderly and fertile of disorder ; that his whole doctrine 
was, and his success must be, diabolical ; so that people 
ought to avoid him, from duty to God, to the Church, to 
themselves, to fellow-men, to posterity, and to him.' 
The heavy charges that Whitefield was no minister of 
Jesus Christ, and that his call and coming to Scotland 
were scandalous, are proved by most odd reasoning, and 
may be left to ecclesiastical antiquaries. The charge of 
disorderly practices comes more within the scope of a 
common understanding, and is thus dealt with : — 4 To 
prove these things from Scripture and reason belongs not 
to the present undertaking, otherwise it might easily be 
done ; but it will be an insuperable task for any man to 
reconcile with, or produce a warrant from, Scripture or 
reason, that gospel ordinances be publicly dispensed 
oftener than once every day, especially among the same 
people. This was as needful in the Apostles their days 
as ever it could be afterwards ; but we have no account 
that they had a regular practice of calling people in this 
manner every day off their other necessary employments. 
Moreover, the awful profanation of the Lord's clay, which 
the noise of Mr. Whitefield's ministrations introduces, 
deserves especial consideration. It is well known that 
on this day multitudes in Edinburgh wait publicly — and 
very indecently, too — for his appearance, through several 
hours before the time appointed for it, and that while 
public worship is exercised through the city, where these 



280 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 



people profess no scruple to join.' Whitefi eld's small 
appreciation of the witnessing of the Church is thus re- 
ferred to : — 4 Thus we see the horrid notion Mr. Whitefield 
has- of the whole witnessing work of the Christian Church, 
and he derives it from as horrid a source, viz. from Satan, 
that old serpent.' 

The theology of Whitefield, which we have seen was 
somewhat rigid and exclusive, was far too lax for Gib. 
8 Mr. Whitefield's universal love,' he says, 8 proceeds upon 
this erroneous and horrid principle, that God is the lover 
of all souls — which asserts universal redemption — and 
the God of all churches — which asserts Him inconsistent 
and impious.' Not, however, that Gib would have him- 
self and his brethren set down as lovers of none but the 
good who were in their own communion ; his charity 
warmed and expanded wonderfully to admit thus much : 
8 We would like what is right in any man ; but does love 
to the persons of all men, and to what good they have, 
oblige us to be cool and dumb anent that good, their 
want whereof may or will blast unto them any good they 
have ? Does it oblige us to stick only by that good which 
they have, unto the perdition of us and them both? 
When we meet one professing to be a pilgrim heaven- 
ward, and having but one leg, one eye, can we not truly 
love him without letting him hack off one of our legs, 
and pluck out one of our eyes ? Is it not the best proof 
of love to him, when we offer, and insist, that he should 
receive supply of a leg and an eye ? And if he contu- 
maciously refuse, does love oblige us to hope and wish 
that his one leg and one eye may do him the same good 
that a pair of each would do ? ' The worst of Whitefield 
was not even yet discovered ; a lower depth of Satan was 
in him ; and, as Gib heroically determined to explore it, his 
spirit almost fainted. He says, 8 When I offer to continue 
my thought upon the gloomy subject thereof, my spirit 
is like to freeze with horror, impotent of speech.' And 



CAMBUSLANG. 



281 



this was the horrifying doctrine of the devil-inspired 
foreign curate, 4 The doctrine of grace, as diabolically 
perverted through. Mr. Whitefield, is versant about such 
a Christ as is merely a Saviour ; and it hurries men off in 
quest of such spiritual influences, convictions, conversions, 
consolations, and assurance, as unconcerned with, and 
hostile unto, the Mediator's visible glory.' One charitable 
word crept into this virulent appendix, and is much too 
precious to be lost. 4 1 will not say that Mr. Whitefield 
understands all this doctrine, or that he knows the real 
meaning and tendency of what he says and adopts in the 
letter and extract ; but 'tis not his intellectuals we are 
debating anent ; 'tis his doctrine. Thus our contendings 
against Mr. Whitefield must be proportioned, not to his 
design, but Satan's ; while hereof he is an effectual, though 
blinded, tool.' 

Whitefield was not soured by such detraction and 
abuse, but wrote to Ebenezer Erskine to say how much 
concerned he was that their difference as to outward 
things should cut off their sweet fellowship and com- 
munion with each other. He protested that his love for 
Erskine and Erskine's brethren was greater than ever ; 
that he applauded their zeal for God, though it was not, 
in some respects, according to knowledge, and was fre- 
quently levelled against himself ; and that his heart had 
no resentment in it. Meanwhile the people, not heeding 
Gib's £ Warning,' flocked to the Hospital Park, and filled 
the shaded wooden amphitheatre which had been erected 
for their accommodation. Twice a day Whitefield went 
to the Park, and twice a day they came to hear him. 

A congregation moved by deeper religious feeling than 
that which agitated Edinburgh was anxious to hear his 
voice in a little village called Cambuslang, on the south 
side of the Clyde, about five miles from Glasgow, and 
now a suburb of that city. Wonderful things were be- 
ginning to take place in that small parish of nine hundred 



282 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

souls. The Bev. William McCulloch, who had been 
ordained its minister on April 29, 1731, was a man of 
considerable learning and of solid, unostentatious piety, 
slow and cautious as a speaker, and more anxious to feed 
his people with sound truth than to move their passions 
with declamation. The news of the revivals in England 
and in America had awakened a lively interest in him ; 
and he began to detail to his people what he knew, and 
they, in their turn, felt as interested as he did. A dilapi- 
dated church and an overflowing congregation next com- 
pelled the good pastor and his flock to resort to the fields 
for worship ; and nature, as if anticipating their wants, 
had made a fair temple of her own in a deep ravine near 
the church. The grassy level by the burnside and the 
brae which rises from it in the form of an amphitheatre, 
afforded an admirable place for the gathering of a large 
mass of people; and there the pastor would preach the same 
doctrines which were touching rugged Kingswood colliers, 
depraved London roughs, and formal ministers and pro- 
fessors of religion in both hemispheres ; but he dwelt 
mostly on regeneration. The sermon over, he would 
recount of a sabbath evening what was going on in the 
kingdom of God elsewhere, and then renew his applica- 
tion of the truth to the conscience. The great evangelist 
had also been heard by some of the people ; nor could 
they forget his words, or throw off their influence. On 
his previous visit to Scotland, when he went to Glasgow, 
they had stood on the gravestones of the high church- 
yard in that immense congregation which trembled and 
wept as he denounced the curses and offered the blessings 
of the word of God. Others, again, had read the ser- 
mons after they were printed, and had been as vitally 
affected as if they had heard the thrilling voice which 
had spoken them. The religious leaven was touching the 
whole body of the people ; and at the end of January 
1742, five months before Whitefield's second visit to 



REVIVAL UXDEE MR. M'CULLOCH. 



283 



Scotland, Ingram More, a shoemaker, and Eobert Bow- 
man, a weaver, carried a petition round the parish, pray- 
ing the minister to ' set up a weekly lecture,' and ninety 
heads of families signed it. The day which was most 
convenient for the temporal interests of the parish was 
Thursday, and on Thursday a lecture was given. Then 
wounded souls began to call at the manse to ask for 
counsel and comfort, and at last, after one of the Thursday 
lectures, fifty of them went ; and all that night the faithful 
pastor was engaged in his good w T ork. Next came a 
daily sermon, followed by private teaching, exhortation, 
and prayer ; and before Whitefield got there to increase the 
intense feeling and honest conviction which were abroad, 
three hundred souls, according to the computation of Mr. 
McCulloch, 6 had been awakened and convinced of their 
perishing condition without a Saviour, more than two 
hundred of whom were, he believed, hopefully converted 
and brought home to God.' The congregations on the hill 
side had also increased to nine or ten thousand. All the 
work of preaching and teaching did not, however, devolve 
upon one man ; ministers from far and near came to see and 
w r onder and help. Great care was taken by them all to 
hinder hypocrisy and delusion from spreading ; and indeed 
the work, as examined by faithful men, presented every 
appearance of a work of the Holy Ghost. It embraced all 
classes, all ages, and all moral conditions. Cursing, swear- 
ing, and drunkenness were given up by those who had been 
guilty of these sins, and who had come under its power. It 
kindled remorse for acts of injustice. It compelled resti- 
tution for fraud. It won forgiveness from the revengeful. 
It imparted patience and love to endure the injuries of 
enemies. It bound pastors and people together with a 
stronger bond of sympathy. It raised an altar in the 
household, or kindled afresh the extinguished fire of 
domestic religion. It made men students of the word of 
God, and brought them in thought and purpose and effort 



284 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

into communion with their Father in heaven. True there 
was chaff among the wheat, but the watchfulness and 
wisdom of the ministers detected it, and quickly drove it 
away. And for long years afterwards humble men and 
women, who dated their conversion from the work at 
Cambuslang, walked among their neighbours with an 
unspotted Christian name, and then died peacefully and 
joyfully in the arms of One whom they had learned in 
the revival days to call Lord and Saviour. 

The most remarkable thing in the whole movement was 
an absence of terrible experiences. The great sorrow 
which swelled penitential hearts was not selfish, and came 
from no fear of future punishment, but from a sense of 
the dishonour they had done to God and to their Be- 
deemer. The influence of the Cambuslang meetings was 
at work in many a parish ; and Whitefield's first ride from 
Edinburgh into the west was through places where the 
greatest commotion was visible. When he came to Cam- 
buslang, he immediately preached to a vast congregation, 
which, notwithstanding Gib's warning against hearing 
sermons on other days than the sabbath, had come to- 
gether on a Tuesday at noon. At six in the evening he 
preached again, and a third time at nine. No doubt the 
audience on the brae side was much the same at each 
service, and we are prepared to hear that by eleven at 
night the enthusiasm had reached its highest pitch. Fog's 
Manor and Savannah were nothing to the Scotch village, 
with its sober peasantry and well-read artisans. For an 
hour and a half the loud weeping of the company filled 
the stillness of the summer night ; while now and again 
the cry of some strong man, or more susceptible woman, 
rang above the preacher's voice and the general wailing, 
and there was a swaying to and fro where the wounded 
one fell. Often the word would take effect like shot 
piercing a regiment of soldiers, and the congregation was 
broken again and again. It was a very field of battle, as 



THE REVIVAL EXTENDED BY WHITEFIELD. 



235 



Whitefield himself lias described it. Helpers carried the 
agonised into the house, and, as they passed, the crying 
of those whom they bore moved all hearts with fresh 
emotion, and prepared the way for the word to make 
fresh triumphs. When Whitefield ended his sermon, 
McCulloch took his place, and preached till past one in 
the morning ; and even then the people were unwilling to 
leave the spot. Many walked the fields all night, pray- 
ing aiid singing, the sound of their voices much rejoicing 
the heart of Whitefield as he lay awake in the neighbour- 
ing manse. 

The following Sunday was sacrament day, and he 
hurried back to Edinburgh to do some work there, 
before joining in the great and solemn ceremony. He 
says that there was such a shock in Edinburgh on Thurs- 
day night and Friday morning as he had never felt before. 
On Friday night he came to Cambuslang, and on Satur- 
day he preached to more than twenty thousand people. 
Sabbath, however, was the day of days. New converts 
had looked forward to it as the time of their first loving 
confession of their Eedeemer, and aged Christians were 
assembled with the freshness of their early devotion upon 
them. Godly pastors had come from neighbouring and 
also from distant places to assist in serving the tables, and 
to take part in prayer and exhortation. All around the 
inner group of believers who were to partake of the 
sacrament for a remembrance of our Lord, was a mighty 
host, scarcely less earnest or less outwardly devout. Two 
tents were erected in the glen : seventeen hundred tokens 
were issued to those who wished to communicate. The 
tables stood under the brae ; and when Whitefield began 
to serve one of them, the people so crowded upon him 
that he was obliged to desist, and go to one of the tents 
to preach. All through the day, preaching by one or 
another never ceased ; and at night, when the last com- 
municant had partaken, all the companies, still unwearied 



236 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

and still ready to hear, met in one congregation, and 
Whitefield, at the request of the' ministers, preached to 
them. His sermon was an hour and a half long, and the 
twenty thousand were not tired of hearing it. 

Such a day might well have been followed by quiet- 
ness and repose, but his was no heart to cry for leisure, 
whatever his body might do. The following Monday 
was sure to be just such a day as he could most tho- 
roughly enjoy, for the day after communion Sund'ay has 
had among Presbyterians almost more sanctity than the 
Sunday itself. Preachers have preached their most effec- 
tive sermons on that day, and it was a memorable time 
at Cambuslang. ' The motion,' Whitefield says,. c fled as 
swift as lightning from one end of the auditory to another. 
You might have seen thousands bathed in tears. Some at 
the same time wringing their hands, others almost swoon- 
ing, and others crying out, and mourning over a pierced 
Saviour. It was like the passover in Josiah's time.' 

The sermon preached by him on the Sunday night 
was upon Isaiah liv. 5, 6 For thy Maker is thy husband,' 
and was a sermon more frequently referred to by his 
converts than any other : yet we look in vain for a 
single passage of interest or power in it. The thought is 
meagre, and the language tame ; there is a total absence 
of the dramatic element which abounds in all his treat- 
ment of narrative and parable. But, remembering how 
perfectly his heart realised the idea of union with God, 
and how intense was his personal devotion to the will of 
God, it becomes easier to understand the unfailing unc- 
tion with which his common thoughts were clothed. He 
could hardly fail to have power, when entreating sinners 
to yield to God and be joined to the Lord Jesus, who 
could say, without affectation or boast, 8 The hopes of 
bringing more souls to Jesus Christ is the only consider- 
ation that can reconcile me to life. For this cause I 
can willingly stay long from my wished-for home, my 



MEDDLESOME FRIENDS. 



287 



wishecl-for Jesus. But whither am I going? I forget 
myself when writing of Jesus. His love fills my soul.' 

His qualities of meekness and self-restraint were as 
hardly tested by the meddlesomeness of would-be ad- 
visers as by the blind rage of enemies. Willison, of 
Dundee, a minister of the Kirk, was jealous over him on 
two» points : first, as to the question of episcopacy ; and, 
secondly, as to his habits of private devotion. As to the 
first, Whitefield told his correspondent that he thought 
his ' letter breathed much of a sectarian spirit ; ' and with 
his wonted charity added, 4 to which I hoped dear Mr. 
Willison was quite averse. Methinks you seem, dear sir, 
not satisfied, unless I declare myself a Presbyterian, and 
openly renounce the Church of England. God knows 
that I have been faithful in bearing a testimony against 
what I think is corrupt in that church. I have shown 
my freedom in communicating with the Church of Scot- 
land, and in baptizing children their own way. I can go 
no further. Dear sir, be not offended at my plain speak- 
ing. I find but few of a truly catholic spirit. Most are 
catholic till they bring persons over to their own party, 
and there they would fetter them. I have not so learned 
Christ. I desire to act as God acts. I shall approve, 
and join with all who are good in every sect, and cast a 
mantle of love over all that are bad, so far as is con- 
sistent with a good conscience. This I can do without 
temporising ; nay, I should defile my conscience if I did 
otherwise. As for my answer to Mr. M., dear sir, it is 
very satisfying to my own soul. Morning and evening 
retirement is certainly exceeding good ; but if through 
weakness of body, or frequency of preaching, I cannot go 
to God in my usual set times, I think my spirit is not in 
bondage. It is not for me to tell how often I use secret 
prayer ; if I did not use it, nay, if in one sense I did not 
pray without ceasing, it would be difficult for me to keep 
up that frame of soul which, by the Divine blessing, I 



288 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGrE WHITEFIELD. 



daily enjoy. If the work of God prospers, and your 
hands become more full, you will then, dear sir, know 
better what I mean. 1 But enough of this. God knows 
my heart. I would do everything I possibly could to 
satisfy all men, and give a reason of the hope that is in 
me with meekness and fear ; but I cannot satisfy all that 
are waiting for an occasion to find fault : our Lord could 
not ; I therefore despair of doing it. However, dear sir, 
I take what you have said in very good part ; only I 
think you are too solicitous to clear up my character to 
captious and prejudiced men. Let my Master speak for 
me.' 

As soon as news of the Cambuslang work came from 
the west, the Seceders called a presbytery, which, with a 
promptitude that showed their prejudices and condemned 
their act as rash and ignorant, appointed a fast for the 
diabolical delusion which had seized the people. The 
notions of Gib were evidently highly popular ; for be- 
tween the eleventh of July and the fifteenth — the date of 
the act of the Presbytery — no examination of the work 
could have been made. The act (which I have not had 
the good fortune to see) was described by Eobe, oi 
Kilsyth, a man of fair and generous temper, as ' full oi 
great swelling words, altogether void of the spirit of the 
meek and lowly Jesus, and the most heaven-daring paper 
that hath been published by any set of men in Britain 
these hundred years past. Therein you declare the 
work of God to be a delusion, and the work of the grand 

1 What would Willison have thought of Whitefield, if he had heard the 
following vagabond anecdote, which ought to be true, if it is not ? Some 
time after the quarrel upon the five points between Whitefield and Wesley, 
and their happy reconciliation, the two combatants slept together in the 
same bed (Methodist preachers sometimes slept three in a bed !), at the close 
of a toilsome day. Wesley knelt down and prayed before lying down to 
rest, but Whitefield threw himself upon the bed at once. ' George/ said 
Wesley, in a reproachful tone, ' is that your Calvinism ? ' During the night 
Whitefield awoke, and found his friend fast asleep on his knees by the bed- 
side ; rousing him up he said — ' John, is that your Arminianism ? ' 



FAST FOR THE REVIVAL. 



289 



deceiver.' The intense, unreasonable prejudice which 
had to be encountered may be understood from the 
guarded way in which an account of the work done by 
McCulloch alone, before Whitefield came, was sent before 
the public ; it appeared with an appendix of nine attes- 
tations from trustworthy witnesses, ministers of other 
parishes. Whitefield expressed himself with much com- 
posure in a letter to a friend. 4 The Messrs. Erskine,' he 
says, 4 and their adherents, would you think it, have 
appointed a public fast to humble themselves, among 
other things, for my being received in Scotland, and for 
the delusion, as they term it, at Cambuslang, and other 
places ; and all this because I would not consent to 
preach only for them, till I had light into, and could 
take, the Solemn League and Covenant. But to what 
lengths may prejudice carry even good men! From 
giving way to the first risings of bigotry and a party 
spirit, good Lord deliver us ! ' 

And the charity of this large-hearted man was not 
words on paper; he could believe in the goodness of 
another, in spite of personal wrong done to himself, and 
wait with full confidence the time when evil should be 
overcome with good. Soon after the fast, which was 
proclaimed from Dunfermline, he had a short interview 
with Ealph Erskine, and brotherly love so prevailed that 
they embraced each other, and Ealph said, 4 We have 
seen strange tilings.' Whiten eld's faith in the power of 
love to bring brethren to a right state of mind was 
justified even in the case of violent Adam Gib, who, 
when an old man, confessed to his nephew that he 
wished that no copies of his pamphlet against Whitefield 
were on the face of the earth, and that, if he knew how 
to recall them, every copy should be obtained and burnt : 
' My blood at that time was too hot,' said he, 4 and I was 
unable to write with becoming temper.' 

The strain made upon Whitefield by his exhausting 

u 



290 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOPcGE W1IITEFIELD. 

labours brought back again the spasms of sickness with 
which he had been so frequently seized in America. 
Writing to one of his friends he said : ' Last night some of 
my friends thought I was going off ; but how did Jesus 
fill my heart ! To-day I am, as they call it, much better. 
In less than a month, we are to have another sacrament 
at Cambuslang — a thing not practised before in Scotland. 
I entreat all to pray in an especial manner for a blessing 
at that time.' A fortnight later, when he had got to 
Cambuslang, and shared in the much-desired sacrament, 
he said, 4 My bodily strength is daily renewed, and I 
mount on the wings of faith and love like an eagle.' 
This second celebration was more remarkable than even 
the first. It came about in this wise. 

Soon after the first celebration, Webster of Edinburgh 
proposed that there should be a second on an early day, 
and Whitefielcl seconded him. McCulloch liked the pro- 
posal, but must confer with his people before giving 
an answer. The several meetings for prayer were in- 
formed of it, and they, after supplication and deliberation, 
thought it best to favour it : because in the early days of 
Christianity the sacrament was often celebrated ; because 
the present work was extraordinary ; and because many 
persons who had thought of communicating in July had 
been hindered by inward misgivings or outward diffi- 
culties. It was resolved to dispense the Lord's Supper 
again on August 15. Meanwhile, prayer meetings were 
arranged for through the whole of the intervening month. 
Communicants came from distant as well as neighbouring 
places, from Edinburgh and Kilmarnock, from Irvine and 
Stewarton, and some even from England and Ireland. 
Great numbers of Quakers came to be hearers — not par- 
takers, of course — so, too, did many of the Secession, and 
some of the latter went to the table. Ministers arrived 
from Edinburgh, Glasgow, Kilsyth, Kinglassie, Irvine, 
Douglas, Blantyre, Eutherglen, and Cathcart. Old Mr. 



THE LOKD'S SUPPER AT CAMBUSLANG. 



291 



Bonar, of Torphichen, who took three days to ride 
eighteen miles, was determined to be present, and when 
helped up to one of the three tents which had been 
pitched, preached three times with much energy; he 
returned home with the ' Nunc dimittis ' on his lips. Be- 
tween thirty and forty thousand people were gathered in 
the glen on the Sunday ; and of these three thousand 
communicated. 1 The energy of the truth which was all 
day long preached by several ministers in different parts 
was so great that possibly a thousand more would have 
done so, if they could have had access to procure tokens. 
The staff of ministers were assisted at the tables by seve- 
ral elders of rank and distinction. And there was not 
wanting that power which perhaps most, if not all, had 
come hoping to find. Whitefield himself was in a visible 
ecstasy as he stood in the evening serving some tables ; 
and at ten at night, his great audience in the churchyard 
could heed only his words, though the weather, which 
had been favourable all clay, had broken, and it rained 
fast. On the following morning, at seven o'clock, Web- 
ster preached with immense effect, and Whitefield fol- 
lowed in the same manner later in the day. 

The greater the work the hotter the opposition and 
the more furious the denunciations of opponents. The 
Seceders were running greater and greater lengths in 
misguided zeal, and were beginning to split among them- 
selves. This was a chance for the Kirk presbyters, some 
of whom had no love for the prelatist, excepting as he 
fortified their falling Church, to launch out at him ; and 
they began to call to account some of the ministers who 
had employed him. The Cameronians, who rallied round 
the blue flag of the Covenant, rivalled in a 4 Declaration ' 

1 It will help us to understand how widespread was the religious work at 
this time, if we remember that the population of Glasgow was about 20,000, 
Had every man, woman, and child gone from the city and joined the parish- 
ioners of Cambuslang, the whole would not have made more than two-thirds 
of one of the congregations assembled to hear Whitefield in that village. 

u 2 



292 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

the ' Act ' of the Associate Presbytery. They called their 
document 4 The Declaration, Protestation, and Testimony 
of the suffering Eemnant of the anti-Popish, anti-Lutheran, 
anti-Prelatic, anti-Whitefieldian, anti-Erastian, anti-Secta- 
rian, true Presbyterian Church of Christ in Scotland. 
Published against Mr. George Whitefield and his encou- 
ragers, and against the work at Cambuslang and other 
places ;' and the ignorance and injustice of the declara- 
tion amply sustained the pugnacious title. Whitefield, 
according to it, was a wandering star, who steered his 
course according to the compass of gain and advantage, 
and preached vain-glorious orations. He was the 4 most 
latitudinarian prelatic priest that ever essayed to con- 
found and unite unto one almost all sorts and sizes of 
sects and heresies whatsoever with orthodox Christians ; ' 
and this was the man whom some who called themselves 
Presbyterians had 4 employed to assist them at their most 
solemn occasions, and not only admitting him to profane 
the holy things of the Lord by partaking of the Lord's 
Supper himself, but also by employing him to preach, 
exhort, serve communion tables, and to take the bread 
and wine, the elements whereby Christ's body and blood 
are represented in this holy ordinance, in his foul, prelatic, 
sectarian hands, and to break and divide the same among 
their communicants.' The blows aimed at Whitefield in 
this document were worse than charges of heresy — 4 for 
it is well known,' said the cruel detractor, 4 from his con- 
duct and management in Scotland last year, in gathering 
and collecting such vast sums of money to himself, pub- 
licly and privately, in the several places where he tra- 
versed, that his unsatiable lust of covetousness (when 
added to other things that he is chargeable with) showed 
him to be such an one that no other thing could be 
rationally judged to be his design in coming to Scotland 
but to pervert the truth, subvert the people, and make 
gain to himself by making merchandise of his pretended 



CAMERONIAN DECLARATION. 



293 



ministry.' Going on to the work at Cambuslang, it winds 
up with an extraordinary paragraph, which brings the 
sanity of the writers into suspicion : 6 Upon these and 
many other grounds and reasons that might be given 
against it, we do for ourselves, and for all that shall ad- 
here unto us in this, hereby expressly protest, testify, and 
declare against the delusion of Satan at Cambuslang, and 
other places, because, as we have showed, it is not agree- 
able to the law and the testimony, the written Word of 
God (Isa. vii. 20). And we do likewise protest, testify, 
and declare against all the managers, aiders, assisters, 
countenancers, and encouragers of the same ; against all 
such as, by subscribed attestations, or other ways, give it 
out to be a wonderful work of the spirit of God, thereby 
labouring to deceive the hearts of the simple, and to 
strengthen their own ill cause ; against all such as resort 
to it, plead for it, or any way approve of it ; and against 
all such as condemn the faithfulness of such as testify 
against it ; and, finally, against all who pass it by in 
silence, without giving a testimony against it. And that 
this our declaration, protestation, and testimony, may 
come to the world's view, we do appoint and ordain our 

emissaries, in our name, to pass upon the day of 

August, 1742, to the market cross of , and other 

public places necessary, and there publish and leave copies 
of the same, that none may pretend ignorance hereof. 
Given in Scotland upon the day of August, 1742. 

4 Let King Jesus reign, 
And let all His enemies be scattered/ 

A more crafty way of damaging his reputation and 
impeding his work was hit upon by one or more persons 
in America, who wrote to friends in Scotland what they 
pretended to be true accounts of the condition of religion 
in New England. One of the letters was written to a 
minister in Glasgow, and another to Mr. George Wishart, 



294 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WH1TEFIELD. 



one of the ministers of Edinburgh. Both letters were 
published without the names of their writers, and were 
offered for public acceptance, the one upon the word of 
its publisher, and the other upon the word of Wishart. 
The first was deemed worthy of an answer, which White- 
field wrote at Cambuslang, where he had fixed his 
head-quarters for some time, and whence he made 
constant excursions to places that wanted his services. 
Its authority was effectually shattered when Whitefield 
pointed out that, if it had come from America at all, it 
had been tampered with since its arrival ; for reference 
was made in it to a sermon published in London on 
May 1 ; yet the letter itself was written on May 24, and 
no mode of transit in those days was swift enough to 
carry news across the Atlantic and back in twenty-three 
days. A few racy touches are to be found in the reply, 
which uphold Whiten eld's reputation for quickness of 
retort. The letter said that Tennent was of an uncha- 
ritable spirit, and made divisions ; but it said, also, that 
he was followed by -all sorts of people ; and Whitefield 
rejoined : 4 This, I think, was a proof that he was of a 
catholic spirit, and not of a divisive, uncharitable temper.' 
Tennent was followed as much as Whitefield, said the 
letter ; and Whitefield echoed : ' And I pray God he may 
be followed a thousand times more.' 'And by many 
persons preferred to him,' said the letter. ' Very justly 
so,' said Whitefield. But Tennent's 4 sermons were some- 
times as confused and senseless as you can imagine.' 
Whitefield capped the censure with the reply : ' It is well 
they were not always so.' 

The letters were, indeed, more of an assault upon 
Whitefield, through Tennent, than of an attempt to assail 
him through his own work. The letter bearing Wishart's 
imprimatur only repeated the old cry, that Whitefield 
bad taken people from their business, and filled every 
one's mouth with talk about religion : its real attack was 



LETTERS OF DEFENCE. 



295 



upon Tennent, and his works and friends, only the people 
in Scotland were asked to regard Whiten eld in the same 
light. Whitefield summed the whole matter up in a 
manly, impartial paragraph. He says : 4 There has been 
a great and marvellous work in New England ; but, as it 
should seem, by the imprudences of some, and the over- 
boiling zeal of others, some irregularities have been com- 
mitted in several places, which Mr. Tennent himself, in a 
letter to Mr. Parsons, printed in the "Boston Gazette," 
has borne his testimony against as strongly as any of 
these eminent ministers. This is nothing but what is 
common. It was so in Old England some few years ago. 
Many young persons there ran out before they were 
called ; others were guilty of great imprudences. I 
checked them in the strictest manner myself, and found, 
as they grew acquainted with the Lord Jesus and their 
own hearts, the intemperance of their zeal abated, and 
they became truly humble walkers with God. But must 
the whole work of God be condemned as enthusiasm and 
delusion because of some disorder?' 1 

The labour of defending his work, as well as doing it,, 
was not all left in Whitenelcl's hands. Webster of Edin- 
burgh vindicated the work in the west of Scotland with 
great calmness and charity towards adversaries. His 
words, after those of the Cameronians and Associate Pres- 
byterians, were like summer breezes after an east wind. 
£ I shall conclude with observing,' he says, 6 that the 
warm opposition made to this divine work by several 

1 How much Tennent himself was sobered in judgment upon some ques- 
tions, though not at all in his way of expressing himself, appears in a letter 
published in the 'Boston Evening Post/ July 26, 1742. He says: 'The 
late method of setting up separate meetings upon the supposed unregeneracy 
of pastors of places is enthusiastical, proud, and schismatical. All that fear 
God ought to oppose it as a most dangerous engine to bring the churches 
into the most damnable errors and confusions. The practice of openly ex- 
posing ministers, who are supposed to be unconverted, in public discourse,, 
by particular application of such times and places, serves only to provoke 
them, instead of doing them any good, and to declare our own arrogance/ 



296 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



good men through misinformation or mistaken zeal, and 
the slippery precipice on which they now stand, may 
teach us that it is indeed a dangerous thing to censure 
without proper enquiry. It may serve likewise as a 
solemn warning against a party spirit, which so far blinds 
the eyes. It also gives a noble opportunity for the exer- 
cise of our Christian sympathy and charity towards these 
our erring brethren, and should make us long for a re- 
move to Mount Moriah, the land of vision above, where 
all the true lovers of Jesus shall indeed dwell together in 
perfect unity, where are no wranglings, no strivings about 
matters of faith, where the whole scene of present wor- 
ship being removed, we shall see no more darkly as 
through a glass, but face to face, where perfect light will 
lay a foundation for perfect harmony and love. It is 
with peculiar pleasure that I often think of this happy 
meeting of all the scattered flock of Christ, in the imme- 
diate presence of their dear Eedeemer, the Chief Shep- 
herd and Bishop of their souls ; and have not the least 
doubt but that my good friend Ebenezer shall then 
enter into the everlasting mansions with many glorified 
saints whom the Associate Presbytery have now given 
over as the property of Satan. May they soon see their 
mistake, and may we yet altogether be happily united in 
the bonds of peace and truth ! ' 

The short retirement which he managed to snatch from 
the revival work was devoted to domestic concerns, as 
well as to the defence of his preaching and its fruits. 
His mother had sought a temporary home in his house at 
Bristol — probably his sister's house had come into his 
possession — and the event so delighted him that he must 
write to welcome her as if he had been present : — 

'Honoured Mother,' (he wrote) 'I rejoice to hear that you 
liave been so long under my roof. Blessed be God that I have 
a house for my honoured mother to come to. You are heartily 
welcome to anything my house affords as long as you please. I 



HIS MOTHER. 



297 



am of the same mind now as formerly. If need was, indeed, 
these hands should administer to your necessities. I had rather 
want myself than you should. I shall be highly pleased when 
I come to Bristol, and find you sitting in your youngest son's 
house. that I may sit with you in the house not made with 
hands eternal in the heavens ! Ere long your doom, honoured 
mother, will be fixed. You must shortly go hence, and be no 
more seen. Your only daughter, I trust, is now in the paradise 
of Grod : methinks I hear her say, " Mother, come up hither." 
Jesus, I am sure, calls you in His Word. May His spirit enable 
you to say, " Lord ! lo, I come." My honoured mother, I am 
happier and happier every day. Jesus makes me exceeding 
happy in Himself. I hope by winter to be at Bristol. If any 
enquire after me, please to tell them I am well both in body 
and soul, and desire them to help me to praise free and sove- 
reign grace. that my dear, my very honoured, mother may 
be made an everlasting monument of it ! How does my heart 
burn with love and duty to you ! Gladly would I wash your 
aged feet, and lean upon your neck, and weep and pray till I 
could pray no more. With this I send you a thousand dutiful 
salutations, and ten thousand hearty and most humble thanks 
for all the pains you underwent in conceiving, bringing forth, 
nursing, and bringing up, honoured mother, 

£ Your most unworthy, though most dutiful son till death, 

' GrEORGE WhITEFIELD.' 

The orphans were still a great, though pleasant burden, 
troubles having overtaken the institution from two sources. 
Barber, who had the management of its spiritual affairs, 
had used harsh and unwise language to the minister of 
Savannah, and both he and Habersham had, as the con- 
sequence, been imprisoned. The action of the magistrates 
was not justifiable, and might have had a bad influence 
upon the future of the colony. The magistrates had also 
seized five small children who had lost their parents on 
their passage out from England, sold their goods, and 
bound them out until they were of age ; whereas the 
charter of the orphanage gave Whitefield the right to 
them. They had committed a third offence in going to 



298 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



the orphan-house, and claiming to take away children 
solely at their own pleasure ; and thus the attached 
children were grieved, and the wayward made insolent ; 
for, practically, all governing power was destroyed. 
Through all these discouragements General Oglethorpe 
was a warm and useful friend, whose kind help White- 
field gratefully acknowledged. 

The second of the troubles came from the Spaniards, 
who, anxious to damage English power, arranged an ex- 
pedition which was to land in Carolina, but was driven by 
bad weather and lack of water to land at St. Simon's, an 
island so near Bethesda that the persons in charge of the 
institution might well be alarmed ; Oglethorpe having 
only a small force at his command, and being surrounded 
by the enemy. With much fear as to what Whitefield 
might think of their conduct, Habersham and Barber 
determined to carry off eighty-five children, women, 
and babes then sheltered in the house, and leave the 
house and its contents to take their chance. Providence 
directed their way to the plantation of Hugh Bryan, who, 
along with another planter, received and lodged them. A 
small party was now encouraged to return to the orphan- 
house to protect the stores, which they found all safe. 
Meanwhile good fortune waited on the arms of Oglethorpe, 
who succeeded in making the enemy beat a retreat ; and 
the family at length returned in peace to the house of 
mercy. 

The parts of this quickly-told story were not near in 
point of time, and account after account was despatched 
for the information of Whitefield, who was not cast down 
by them, although the orphans were seldom out of his 
mind. He longed to be with them, and thought he could 
willingly be found at their head, kneeling and praying, 
though a Spaniard's sword should be put to his throat. 
4 But, alas!' said he, as he remembered his physical 
cowardice, 6 1 know not how I should behave if put to the 



STATE OF THE OKPHAN-HOUSE. 



299 



trial.' He assured Habersham that he need not say, 6 If 
possible now come over : ' he would he had wings to fly 
to them. Yet, in the next sentence, he showed that his po- 
sition with regard to the orphan-house debts was trying : 
6 1 yet owe upwards of two hundred and fifty pounds 
in England, upon the orphan-house account, and have 
nothing towards it. How is the world mistaken about 
my circumstances : worth nothing myself, embarrassed 
for others, and yet looked upon to flow in riches ! ' But a 
few weeks more brightened his prospects, and he could 
say to the same friend : 4 The collections in Scotland were 
large : at Edinburgh I collected one hundred and twenty- 
eight pounds at one time, and forty-four at another ; at 
Glasgow about one hundred and twenty-eight, with private 
donations. I think we got about three hundred pounds 
in all. Blessed be God, I owe nothing now in England 
on the orphan-house account ; what is due is abroad. 
I think since I have been in England we have got 
near fifteen hundred pounds. The Lord will raise up 
what we want further ; glory be to His name. He keeps 
my faith from failing, and upholds me with His right 
hand, and makes me happier in Himself every day.' 

His philanthropic effort laid him open to all kinds of 
assaults. In America and at home the money was 
in every enemy's mouth. Accordingly, one of his last 
works in Scotland was to write 6 A Continuation of the 
Account of the orphan-house in Georgia,' and to give a 
statement of his disbursements and receipts. The latter 
was satisfactory ; and from the former we learn that the 
workmen were all discharged, having fulfilled their con- 
tract, and carried on the work so far as to make every 
part of the house habitable ; that the stock of cattle was 
something considerable, and in a flourishing condition ; 
that the last parliament had resolved to support the 
colony of Georgia ; that they had altered its constitution 
in two material points, namely, these : they had allowed 



300 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 

the importation of rum, and free titles to the lands ; and 
that if they should see good hereafter to grant a limited 
use of Negroes, it must certainly, in all outward appear- 
ance, be as flourishing a colony as South Carolina, but 
that in the meantime a tolerable shift might be made with 
white servants. Hunting and shooting for much of their 
food, killing some of their own stock, growing their 
own vegetables, helped by the kindness of nearly all 
around them, and receiving constant remittances from 
England, the inmates of the orphan-house were always 
provided for. Whitefield's faith that God would not see 
them want was never put to shame ; and he delighted to 
tell how the house had answered to its motto, the burning 
bush, which, though on fire, was never consumed. 

Winter was coming on fast, and it was time for White- 
field to think of returning to London to the only chapel 
which he could call his own ; in all other places he was 
dependent upon other clergymen, and, failing their sup- 
port, must betake himself to the fields. At the end of 
October he took horse, and rode post from Edinburgh to 
London in less than five days. The city he left was now 
very dear to him : the writing its name would make him 
say, 4 Edinburgh ! Edinburgh ! I think I shall never 
forget thee.' He passed from a great contention with 
heart as peaceful as ever rested in human bosom. He 
went chastened and humbled to Scotland ; he returned in 
the power of quietness and confidence, persuaded that 
his was not the task of doing anything but preach the 
Lord Jesus, as he knew and loved Him. He had tried 
the disputing way in the Arminian struggle, and the 
quiet way in the Scotch contendings, and found the latter 
far preferable to the former. 6 As far as I am able to de- 
termine,' he said. 6 1 think some who have the truths of 
God on their side defend themselves with too great a 
mixture of their own spirit, and by this means, perhaps, 
some persons may be prejudiced even against truth. Do 



THE NOBILITY. 



301 



not think that all things the most refined Christian in the 
world does are right ; or that all principles are wrong 
because some that hold them are too embittered in their 
spirits. It is hard for good men, when the truths of God 
are opposed, to keep their temper, especially at the first 
attack.' No small influence among men was justly in 
store for one who, feeling that disputing embitters the 
spirit, ruffles the soul, and hinders it from hearing the 
small still voice of the Holy Ghost, could say, as White- 
field did to Wesley, but quoting Wesley's own words to 
himself, 4 Let the King live for ever, and controversy 
die.' 4 1 care not,' he said to another friend, 4 if the name 
of George Whitefield be banished out of the world, so 
that Jesus be exalted in it.' 

On his arrival in London he found the Tabernacle en- 
larged and 4 a new awakening begun.' In his winter 
quarters, as he called them, he found himself as busy as 
he had been on the common and in the market-place. 
He worked from morning till midnight ; and was carried 
through the duties of each day with cheerfulness and 
almost uninterrupted tranquillity. The society was large 
and in good order, and daily improvements were made. 

It was at this time that the congregation began to be 
sprinkled with visitors of distinction. Hitherto, White- 
field's intercourse with the nobility had been confined to 
those of Scotland, but now English peers and peeresses, 
led by the Earl and Countess of Huntingdon, and by the 
Earl's sisters, the Ladies Hastings, 1 began to mingle with 
the humbler orders, among whom his efforts had won 
such astonishing success. The low wooden Tabernacle 
was sometimes, during this winter of 1742, entered by 
the Duke of Cumberland, the 4 hero of Culloden,' and 
by Frederick, Prince of Wales, that 4 composition of con- 
tradictions, false and sincere, lavish and avaricious, nobody 

1 Lady Betty Hastings, whose generosity had helped Whitefield at Oxford, 
died December 22, 1739. 



302 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



too low or too bad for him to court, and nobody too 
great or too good for him to betray.' 1 Lord Hervey, too, 
wretched in health, which he supported by drinking asses' 
milk, his ghastly countenance covered with rouge, would 
sometimes sit on its benches. The Duke of Bolton, Lord 
Lonsdale, and Lord Sidney Beauclerk, who hunted the 
fortunes of the old and childless, but is best known as the 
father of Dr. Johnson's friend, Topham Beauclerk, also 
came. Most remarkable of all was the haughty face of 
the Duchess of Marlborough, 6 great Atossa — 

c Who with herself, or others, from her birth 
Finds all her life one warfare upon earth : 
Shines, in exposing knaves, and painting fools, 
Yet is whate'er she hates and ridicules.' 

Her letters to the Countess of Huntingdon are very cha- 
racteristic of her pride and love of revenge ; they show 
also that she did want to be good, but not to give up 
being wicked. She says : — 

£ My dear Lady Huntingdon is always so very good to me, 
and I really do feel very sensibly all your kindness and atten- 
tion, that I must accept your very obliging invitation to accom- 
pany you to hear Mr. Whitefield, though I am still suffering 
from the effects of a severe cold. Your concern for my im 
provement in religious knowledge is very obliging, and I do 
hope that I shall be the better for all your excellent advice. 
God knows we all need mending, and none more than myself. 
I have lived to see great changes in the world — have acted a 
conspicuous part myself — and now hope, in my old days, to 
obtain mercy from Grod, as I never expect any at the hands of 
my fellow-creatures. The Duchess of Ancaster, Lady Town- 
shend, and Lady Cobham were exceedingly pleased with many 
observations in Mr. Whitefield's sermon at St. Sepulchre's 
church, which has made me lament ever since that I did not 
hear it, as it might have been the means of doing me good — 
for good, alas ! I do want ; but where among the corrupt sons 
and daughters of Adam am I to find it ? Your ladyship must 

1 Lord Hervey. 



DUCHESS OF MARLBOEOUGH. 



direct me. You are all goodness and kindness, and I often wish 
I had a portion of it. Women of wit, beauty, and quality 
cannot hear too many humiliating truths — they shock our pride. 
But we must die — we must converse with earth and worms. 

6 Pray do me the favour to present my humble service to 
your excellent spouse. A more amiable man I do not know 
than Lord Huntingdon. And believe me, my dear madam, 

' Your most faithful and most humble servant, 

4 S. Marlborough.' 

A second letter to the Countess is as follows : — 

6 Your letter, my dear madam, was very acceptable. Many 
thanks to Lady Fanny for her good wishes. Any communica- 
tions from her, and my dear, good Lady Huntingdon, are always 
welcome, and always in every particular to my satisfaction. I 
have no comfort in my own family, therefore must look for that 
pleasure and gratification which others can impart. I hope 
you will shortly come and see me, and give me more of your 
company than I have had latterly. In truth I always feel more 
happy and more contented after an hour's conversation with you 
than I do after a whole week's round of amusement. When alone, 
my reflections and recollections almost kill me, and I am forced 
to fly the society of those I detest and abhor. Now there is 
Lady Frances Saunderson's great rout to-morrow night — all the 
world will be there, and I must go. I do hate that woman as 
much as I do hate a physician ; but I must go, if for no other 
purpose than to mortify and spite her. This is very wicked, I 
know, but I confess all my little peccadillos to you, for I know 
your goodness will lead you to be mild and forgiving, and 
perhaps my wicked heart may gain some good from you in 
the end. 

4 Lady Fanny has my best wishes for the success of her attack 
on that crooked, perverse, little wretch at Twickenham.' 

Another occasional hearer at the Tabernacle was the 
Duchess of Buckingham, the rival of Atossa in pride, 
but less patient than she. under reproof, and hating Me- 
thodist doctrines with all her heart. To Lady Hunting- 
don's invitation to attend one of Whitefield's services, 
she replies ; 4 1 thank your ladyship for the information 



304 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

concerning Methodist preachers ; their doctrines are most 
repulsive, and strongly tinctured with impertinence and 
disrespect towards their superiors, in perpetually endea- 
vouring to level all ranks, and do away with all distinc- 
tions. It is monstrous to be told that you have a heart 
as sinful as the common wretches that crawl on the earth. 
This is highly offensive and insulting ; and I cannot but 
wonder that your ladyship should relish any sentiments 
so much at variance with high rank and good breeding. 
Your ladyship does me infinite honour by your obliging 
inquiries after my health. I shall be most happy to 
accept your kind offer of accompanying me to hear your 
favourite preacher, and shall wait your arrival. The 
Duchess of Queensbury insists on my patronising her on 
this occasion ; consequently she will be an addition to 
our party.' 

The list of Whitefi eld's noble hearers is increased by 
the names of the Earl of Oxford, Lady Lisburne, and 
Lady Hinchinbroke. With the exception of the last two 
ladies, none of them accepted his teaching and lived 
according to it. To gratify their taste for the highest 
oratory, or to please the pious Countess who invited their 
attendance, was the motive that brought them to so 
strange a place. 

Our eyes are more attracted to Whiten" eld in the midst 
of his troubles, than in the midst of his triumphs. The 
family gave him many an hour's concern, and kept 
alive a deep sense of his constant need of divine help : 
he could not forget God while he remembered the 
children. He tells us that one night this winter he lay 
on his face before ' our compassionate High Priest, telling 
Him what great expenses lay before him for His great 
name's sake.' He wanted three hundred pounds for the 
orphans, and much to meet his own personal expenses. Not 
long after he arose from prayer, a letter came to him from 
an Edinburgh friend, containing the help he needed. 



ABUNDANT LABOUKS. 



305 



In the spring, he started for his old ground in Glou- 
cestershire, and found preaching there to be like preach- 
ing in the Tabernacle. His friends in the county had 
been roughly handled of late, yet he stood unmolested 
on a spot in Dursley from which his friend Adams had 
been driven but the Sunday before. On Hampton Com- 
mon, from the top of a knoll named, after the preacher 
who first honoured it as his pulpit, 4 Whitefield's tump,' 
he preached amid much solemnity to a congregation of 
ten thousand ; and when he stood at noon on old Mr. 
Cole's tump at Quarhouse it was an 4 alarming time,' and 
his soul enjoyed exceeding great liberty. Perhaps the 
memory of departed worth helped to expand his suscep- 
tible heart. His native city delighted in the sound of 
his voice ; and not until one o'clock on the Monday 
morning, after he bade them farewell, before starting 
for Wales, could he lay his weary body down to rest. 
Sick and unrefreshed he rose again at five, and, mounting 
horse, rode to meet a congregation which had come at 
seven, 4 hoping to feel the power of a risen Lord.' He 
read prayers and preached ; and then rode on to Stroud, 
where he preached in a field with uncommon freedom 
and power to twelve thousand people. At six in the 
evening he preached to the same number on Hampton 
Common ; and still his word was with power. A general 
love-feast of the religious societies in Hampton was next 
presided over by him, and that engagement closed the 
day. All that he has to say about such abundant 
labours is beautifully like the simple loving spirit in 
which he delighted to be about his 4 Father's business ' — 
4 My soul was kept close to Jesus ; my bodily strength 
renewed; and I went to bed about midnight very 
cheerful and very happy.' The next morning a congre- 
gation of some thousands was trembling and rejoicing 
under his word at Dursley; and at night he was in Bristol, 
speaking with wonderful power to a full congregation at 



306 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITBFIELD. 



Smith's Hall. The following morning he met as large a 
congregation in the same place, and then set out for 
Watford, in South Wales. 

Nor was he on a visit to a friend at Watford for 
the purpose of getting rest and quietness ; he had come 
to preside over the second General Association of 
Methodists in Wales. Judging from the amount of 
business done, the men of the Association were gifted 
with some capacity for work. Whitefield opened the 
Association at noon, on the day after his arrival, with a 
' close and solemn discourse upon walking with God ; ' 
then they betook themselves to business, and despatched 
several important things. There was an interval from 
seven till ten o'clock, from which hour they worked till 
two in the morning. The next day they sat till four in 
the afternoon ; a little refreshment followed and ' some 
warm talk about the things of God,' and then Whitefield 
preached to them a sermon upon the believer's rest. 
These — the refreshment for the body and the refreshment 
for the soul — prepared them for another sitting, which 
lasted until midnight, when the whole business of the 
Association was finished ; and feeling that God had been 
with them in all that they had done, they did not forget 
to bless Him for His help before parting. 

At the first General Association, of which also White- 
field was chosen Moderator, a resolution of considerable 
importance, as bearing upon the relation of Methodism 
to the Church of England, was passed ; and that White- 
field should have allowed it to do so was some violation 
of his usual fairness to all parties. The Association met 
in a Presbyterian or Independent chapel, and represented 
a body of Methodists, the most intelligent and active of 
whom had been gathered from Dissenting congregations. 
A motion was made to separate from the Church of 
England, but the greater part strenuously opposed it, 
because the Methodists enjoyed 4 great liberty under the 



GENERAL ASSOCIATION OF WELSH METHODISTS. 307 

mild and gentle government of King George,' and be- 
cause they thought that they would do him, their country, 
and the cause of God, most service in ranging up and 
down, preaching repentance to those multitudes who 
would go neither to church nor chapel, but were led by 
curiosity to follow preachers into the field. It is easy to 
see why such a decisive proposition as that of separation 
should have fallen to the ground in a meeting which had 
a large proportion of clergymen in it ; but it is quite as 
difficult to understand how the Association could accept 
the one substituted in its place, viz. : — £ That those 
brethren who scruple to receive the sacrament in the 
church, on account of the impiety of the administrators 
and the usual communicants there ; and among the 
Dissenters, on account of their lukewarmness, should con- 
tinue to receive it in the church, until the Lord open a 
clear way to separate from her communion.' Dissent 
and lukewarmness were worse than impiety, when im- 
piety was in the church ; and so, all tender consciences 
must be urged to commune with the latter rather than 
with the former. The resolution was put by Whitefield 
to the Association, and is another proof that he did not 
mean to go from the church until forcibly ejected. 

Wales did honour to her visitor. At Carmarthen, 
which Whitefield describes as 'one of the greatest and 
most polite places in Wales,' the justices, who were as- 
sembled at the great sessions, desired him to stay till 
they rose, and they would come to hear him at the 
cross. They came, and many thousands with them, in- 
cluding several persons of quality. 

On another day, when he was crossing Carmarthen Bay 
in the ferry, several ships hoisted their flags, and one 
fired a salute. 

Yet such attentions never turned him from his gene- 
rous purpose of seeking all the lost ; and between the 

x 2 



308 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

days when justices and sailors honoured him, he mentions 
with satisfaction that at Jefferson he preached to a Kings- 
wood congregation, and at Llassivran to a Moorflelds 
one. As soon as London was reached he wrote to his friend 
Ingham in Yorkshire, announcing his intention to stay 
there for a month, and in the holydays once more to attack 
the prince of darkness in Moorflelds ; for, said he, ' many 
precious souls have been captivated with Christ's love in 
that wicked place : Jerusalem sinners bring most glory 
to the Redeemer.' Besides, there was a bond of sym- 
pathy between ' that wicked place ' and Bethesda. Many 
a load of copper, sprinkled here and there with golden 
guineas, and whitened with a few crowns and shillings, had 
been gathered from among the crowd for the orphans ; 
and the old kindness towards the preacher and his adopted 
ones was not extinct. Moorflelds lifted the last straw 
of obligation in England from Whitefield's back on the 
second occasion of his getting free, and enabled him to 
write to Habersham, and tell him the good news that he 
owed nothing in England, and that twenty-five pounds 
were in the hands of the bearer of the letter — all that for 
' my dear family,' and more soon ! The joy of having paid 
debts was mingled with the hope of paying off more ; and 
Habersham must give Whitefield's 'humble respects to 
dear Mr. Jones,' and tell him, 6 our Saviour will enable 
me to pay him all soon, with a thousand thanks.' 

The incessant toil was making itself felt on that slim 
frame which contained a spirit of seraphic devotion. 
Weariness and feebleness hung about it for a time, but 
preaching was continued at the same rate, the only relief 
beino- in the shorter distances travelled. The loving heart 
made light of the body's weakness, and enjoyed for itself 
all the more deeply the secret consolations which come 
from above. It became so full of heaven that Whitefield 
sometimes longed when in public to lie down anywhere, 
that on his face he might give God thanks ; and when in 



HAMPTON KIOTS 



300 



private lie wept for hours the tears of his consuming 
love for his Lord. 

• In perils by mine own countrymen 5 was another ex- 
perience through which he and his friends were now 
called to pass. Wiltshire had for some time been in 
commotion through the animosity of several clergymen, 
and Whitefield felt himself obliged to put the facts be- 
fore the Bishop of Sarum. who. however, does not seem 
to have interfered to stop the disgraceful proceedings. 
Churchwardens and overseers were strictly forbidden to 
let any of the Methodists have anything out of the 
parish ; they obeyed the clergy, and told the poor that 
they would famish them, if in no other way they could 
stop them from joining the new sect. Most of the poor, 
some of them with large families, braved the threat, and 
suffered for their constancy the loss of goods and friends. 
A few denied that thev had ever been to meetings : and 
some promised that they would go no more. 

Trouble arose in Wales also, and Whitefield appealed 
to the Bishop of Bangor against having certain good 
people indicted for holding a conventicle, when they met 
to tell their religious experiences to each other. With 
some effect he urged that a continuance of such treat- 
ment must inevitably drive hundreds, if not thousands, 
from the church, and compel them to declare themselves 
Dissenters. 

But the greatest difficulty was with the Hampton rioters. 
There was in Hampton one Adams, who having received 
the truth the first time that Whitefield preached it on the 
common, tried to be a minister to his neighbours. His 
house was often crowded with them, while he expounded 
and prayed ; but many of the baser sort, privately encou- 
raged by some of a higher rank, would beset the house, 
raise a horrid noise with a low-bell and horn, and then 
beat and abuse the inoffensive worshippers. The violence 
grew worse, and for several days great bodies of men 



310 LIFE AND TRAVELS OP GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



assembled round the house, broke the windows, and so 
mobbed the* people that many expected to be murdered, 
and in their fright hid themselves in holes and corners. 
Even the presence of Whitefield, the conqueror of a Moor- 
fields mob, could not restrain these savage provincials, 
who threatened that they would have a piece of his black 
gown to make aprons of ; and once when he was among his 
friends, the crowd continued from four o'clock in the after- 
noon till midnight, rioting, huzzaing, casting dirt upon the 
hearers, and proclaiming that no Anabaptists, Presbyte- 
rians, &c, should preach there, upon pain of being first put 
into a skinpit, and afterwards into a brook. At length 
Whitefield, annoyed beyond endurance, and forgetting his 
cowardice, ran downstairs among them and scattered them 
right and left ; but, like a cloud of wasps that have been 
parted by a blow, they were soon together again, ready 
for any mischief. They ended their sport by breaking a 
boy's and a young lady's arm n two places. On another 
occasion they were content to pull one or two women 
downstairs by the hair of their heads. Adams was their 
principal object of hatred, because, as they explained to 
him, he had brought false doctrine among his neighbours, 
and impoverished the poor. On a July Sunday after- 
noon, a hundred of them came with their African music, 
forced their way into his house, carried him to a skin-pit 
full of stagnant water and the creeping things which breed 
in it, and threw him in. A friend of his who expostu- 
lated was thrown in twice, then beaten and dragged along 
the kennel. Adams quietly returned to his house to 
pray and exhort his brethren to cheerfulness under suffer- 
ing ; but in half-an-hour the mob, anxious for more 
sport, entered his house a second time, dragged him 
downstairs, and led him to Bourn brook, a mile and a 
half from Hampton, and threw him in twice, cutting his 
leg severely against a stone. Meanwhile the constable 
and justices never heeded the appeals made for their 



ONE-SIDED LIBERTY. 



311 



interference, but countenanced the lawless suppression of 
Methodism. The clergy were satisfied with the outrages. 
Preaching was for a time suspended. Whitefield now 
consulted with London friends as to the line of action it 
would be best to take, and all wisely determined to claim 
the protection of the law. But before doing so, the 
rioters were offered a chance of escape, if they would 
acknowledge their fault, mend the windows of Adams' 
house, and pay for curing the boy's arm. Their reply was 
that they were in high spirits, and were resolved there 
should be no more preaching in Hampton. Whitefield 
and his friends now moved for a rule of Court in ' the 
King's Bench to lodge an information against five of the 
ringleaders. Counsel for the rioters prayed that the rule 
might be enlarged until the next term, and it was granted. 
The interval was employed by the two sides in a charac- 
teristic way : the rioters increased their offences, and the 
Methodists stirred up the liberality of friends to bear the 
expenses of the trial, and the hearts of the faithful in 
England, Wales, and Scotland, to keep a day of fasting 
and prayer for its right issue. 

It must have added to the excitement of a Methodist's 
coming to a town, in those days when ' such great liberty ' 
— on one side — ' was enjoyed under the mild and gentle 
government of King George,' to see how the church and 
the roughs would receive him. There must have been 
great glee in the belfry at Ottery when, just as Whitefield 
announced his text, the ringers pulled the ropes and 
made the bells utter a clanging peal, in which the finest 
voice became as useless as a whisper. And there must 
have been profound satisfaction in the parsonage when 
the clergyman told an admiring circle how he had de- 
manded of the arch-methodist, as he and his friends made 
for the fields, where they might worship in peace, his 
authority for preaching, and called his meeting illegal 
and a riot. The rabble of Wedgbury, too, must have 



312 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOKGE WIUTEFIELD. 

been delighted when a sod fell on the reverently-bowed 
head of Whitefield, and another struck his clasped hands, 
as he stood among them and prayed. 

But happily the clergy and the blackguards, if united 
for evil in some places, had not a national union. If 
Ottery was inhospitable, St. Gennis prayed for Whitefield's 
coming ; and his visit renewed the days of Cambuslang. 
Writing from this place he said : ' Glad I am that God 
inclined my heart to come hither. How did His stately 
steps appear in the sanctuary last Lord's day! Many, 
many prayers were put up by the worthy rector and 
others for an outpouring of God's blessed Spirit. They 
were answered. Arrows of conviction fled so thick and 
so fast, and such an universal weeping prevailed from one 
end of the congregation to the other, that good Mr. J. 
could not help going from seat to seat to speak, encou- 
rage, and comfort the wounded souls. The Oxonian's 
father was almost struck dumb ; and the young Oxonian's 
crest was so lowered that I believe he'll never venture to 
preach an unknown Christ, or deal in the false commerce of 
unfelt truths. I could enlarge, but I must away to Bideford, 
just to give Satan another stroke, and bid my Christian 
friends farewell, and then return the way I came, namely, 
through Exeter. Wellington, and Bristol, to the great 
metropolis.' Exeter, also, answered to his call, many of its 
clergy and nearly a third of its inhabitants turning out 
to hear him. He thought that on the whole a healthy 
change was passing over society ; that prejudices were 
falling off; and that people were beginning not only 
rationally to discern, but powerfully to feel, the doctrines 
of the gospel. 

The expectation of a son's being born to him now filled 
his heart with all a father's pride ; and, as well as his 
notions of public duty would permit, he was thoughtful for 
his wife's comfort and safety. But his was not the best of 
keeping for a delicate woman to be committed to ; one 



BIRTH OF A SOjST. 



313 



day he nearly killed both her and himself. In expecta- 
tion of the birth he restricted his work to London and the 
neighbourhood, and even indulged his domestic affections 
so far as to take Mrs. Whitefield for a drive, according 
to advice. But he was a poor driver, if a fine rider, and 
soon drove into a ditch fourteen feet deep. Mrs. White- 
field put her hand across the chaise, and thus saved her- 
self and him from being thrown out. The horse went 
down as though held by a pulley, probably because the 
ditch narrowed very much towards the bottom. By- 
standers shouted out that they were killed, and ran to 
the rescue ; one of them seized the horses head, two or 
three pulled Mrs. Whitefield up the side of the ditch, and 
others, with a long whip, drew the preacher from the 
back of the horse, on to which he had scrambled. Doubt- 
less the accident broke off a close religious conversation, 
for Whitefield says that 4 being both in a comfortable 
frame, I must own to my shame that I felt rather regret 
than thankfulness in escaping what I thought would be a 
kind of translation to our wished-for haven. But, 
amazing love ! we were so strengthened, that the chaise 
and horse being taken up, and our bruises being washed 
with vinegar in a neighbouring house, we went on our 
intended way, and came home rejoicing in God our 
Saviour.' It would appear that he never risked that 
mode of translation again. 

A month afterwards, in October 1743, his son was 
born ; and as soon as the news reached him in the 
country, to which he had made a short preaching ex- 
cursion, he hastened to London. When the infant was 
about a week old, his father baptized him in the Taber- 
nacle, in the presence of many thousands of spectators. 

The little one was not born in a sumptuous house ; 
indeed, his home was not furnished when he came, and 
his father had to be content with borrowed furniture to 
complete his little stock in hand. The simple, grateful, 



314 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



bumble heart of the mighty orator was just like itself 
when he wrote to an old friend in Gloucester : £ This 
afternoon I received your kind letter, and thank you a 
thousand times for your great generosity in lending me 
some furniture, having little of my own. I know who 
will repay you. Next week, God willing, my dear wife 
and little one will come to Gloucester, for I find it 
beyond my circumstances to maintain them here. I 
leave London, God willing, this day seven-night. My 
brother will receive a letter about my wife's coming. 
She and the little one are brave and well.' The little 
one's life was short as a dream. Within three weeks 
Whitefield was sitting in the Bell, at Gloucester, then his 
brother's house, writing an account of his death ! He 
confessed and deplored his own need of the chastisement. 
His letter is touching for its disappointed love and hum- 
bled confidence. It runs thus : 4 Last night, February 8, 
1744, I was called to sacrifice my Isaac — I mean to bury 
my own child and son, about four months old. Many 
things occurred to make me believe he was not only to 
be continued to me, but to be a preacher of the everlast- 
ing gospel. Pleased with the thought, and ambitious of 
having a son of my own so divinely employed, Satan was 
permitted to give me some wrong impressions, whereby, 
as I now find, I misapplied several texts of Scripture. 
Upon these grounds I made no scruple of declaring 
" that I should have a son, and that his name was to 
be John." I mentioned the very time of his birth, and 
fondly hoped that he was to be great in the sight of the 
Lord. Everything happened according to the predictions, 
and my wife having had several narrow escapes while 
pregnant, especially by her falling from a high horse, and 
my driving her into a deep ditch in a one-horse chaise a 
little before the time of her lying in, and from which we 
received little or no hurt, confirmed me in my expecta- 
tion that God would grant me my heart's desire. I 



DEATH OF HIS CHILD. 



315 



would observe to you that the child was even born in a 
room which the master of the house had prepared as a 
prison for his wife for coming to hear me. With joy 
would she often look upon the bars and staples and 
chains which were fixed in order to keep her in. About 
a week after his birth I publicly baptized him in the 
Tabernacle, and in the company of thousands solemnly 
gave him up to that God who gave him to me. A 
hymn, too, fondly composed by an aged widow as suitable 
to the occasion, was sung, and all went away big with 
hopes of the child's being hereafter to be employed in 
the work of God : but how soon are all their fond and, 
as the event hath proved, their ill-grounded expectations 
blasted, as well as mine. Housekeeping being expensive 
in London, I thought best to send both parent and child 
to Abergavenny, where my wife had a little house of my 
own, the furniture of which, as I thought of soon em- 
barking for Georgia, I had partly sold, and partly given 
away. In their journey thither they stopped at Glouces- 
ter, at the Bell Inn, which my brother now keeps, and in 
which I was born. There my beloved was cut off with a 
stroke. Upon my coming here, without knowing what 
had happened, I enquired concerning the welfare of 
parent and child, and by the answer found that the 
flower was cut down. I immediately called all to join in 
prayer, in which I blessed the Father of mercies for 
giving me a son, continuing it to me so long, and taking 
it from me. so soon. All joined in desiring that I would 
decline preaching till the child was buried ; but I re- 
membered a saying of good Mr. Henry, " that weeping 
must not hinder sowing," and therefore preached twice 
the next day, and also the day following, on the even- 
ing of which, just as I was closing my sermon, the bell 
struck out for the funeral. At first, I must acknowledge, 
it gave nature a little shake, but looking up I recovered 
strength, and then concluded with saying that this text 



316 LIFE AND TRAVELS OP GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 

on which I had been preaching, namely, " All things 
work together for good to them that love God," made 
me as willing to go out to my son's funeral as to hear of 
his birth. 

6 Our parting from him was solemn. We kneeled 
down, prayed, and shed many tears, but I hope tears of 
resignation : and then, as he died in the house wherein I 
was born, he was taken and laid in the church where I 
was baptized, first communicated, and first preached. 
All this, you may easily guess, threw me into very solemn 
and deep reflection and, I hope, deep humiliation ; but I 
was comforted from that passage in the Book of Kings, 
where is recorded the death of the Shunamite's child, 
which the prophet said " the Lord had hid from him ;" 
and the woman's answer likewise to the prophet when he 
asked, " Is it well with thee ? Is it well with thy hus- 
band? Is it well with the child?" And she answered: 
" It is well." This gave me no small satisfaction. I 
immediately preached upon the text the following day at 
Gloucester, and then hastened up to London, preached 
upon the same there ; and, though disappointed of a living 
preacher by the death of my son, yet I hope what hap- 
pened before his birth, and since at his death, hath 
taught me such lessons as, if duly improved, may render 
his mistaken parent more cautious, more sober-minded, 
more experienced in Satan's devices, and consequently 
more useful in his future labours to the Church of God.' 

There was one sermon, at least, with which he often 
melted his vast congregation into tears, which would lose 
no force of tenderness and love now that his always affec- 
tionate heart, which might nourish the orphans of other 
fathers and mothers, was denied the delight of fondling a 
child of his own — the sermon on Abraham's offering up 
Isaac. All the grief and struggling of faithful Abraham 
during the three days' journey to the land of Moriah, with 
Isaac, the burnt-offering, by his side, was henceforth pain- 



SEEMON ON THE OFFEKINCf UP OF ISAAC. 317 

fully real to Whitefield while, with trembling voice and 
glistening eye, he pictured them to his hearers. All could 
see the vision of ' the good old man walking with his dear 
child in his hand, and now and then looking upon him, 
loving him, and then turning aside to weep. And, 
perhaps, sometimes he stays a little behind to pour out 
his heart before God, for he had no mortal to tell his 
case to. Then methinks I see him join his son and ser- 
vants again, and talking to them of the things pertaining 
to the kingdom of God, as they walked by the way. 7 
And then his fatherly heart, robbed of the pleasure, so 
often and so surely expected, of confiding and free inter- 
course with a pious and beioved son, would narrate the 
dialogue of the two travellers : 4 Little did Isaac think 
that he was to be offered on that very wood which he 
was carrying upon his shoulders ; and therefore Isaac 
innocently, and with a holy freedom — for good men 
should not keep their children at too great a distance — 
44 spake unto Abraham his father, and said, My father ; 
and he, with equal affection and holy condescension, said, 
Here am I, my son." . . . Here let us pause awhile, and 
by faith take a view of the place where the father has 
laid him. I doubt not but the blessed angels hovered 
round the altar, and sang, "Glory be to God in the 
highest, for giving such faith to man." Come, all ye 
tender-hearted parents, who know what it is to look over 
a dying child : fancy that you saw the altar erected before 
you, and the wood laid in order, and the beloved Isaac 
bound upon it ; fancy that you saw the aged parent stand- 
ing by, weeping. For why may we not suppose that 
Abraham wept, since Jesus Himself wept at the grave of 
Lazarus? Oh, what pious, endearing expressions passed 
now alternately between the father and the son ! Me- 
thinks I see the tears trickle down the patriarch 
Abraham's cheeks ; and out of the abundance of the 
heart he cries, " Adieu ! adieu ! my son ! The Lord 



318 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 



gave thee to me, and the Lord calls thee away ; blessed 
be the name of the Lord. Adieu! my Isaac, my only 
son, whom I love as my own soul ! Adieu! adieu ! " I see 
Isaac at the same time meekly resigning himself into his 
Heavenly Father's hands, and praying to the Most High 
to strengthen his earthly parent to strike the stroke.' 
Then, when men had well entered into the greatness of 
the human sacrifice, and were under the dominion of 
their finest and purest emotions, the preacher said : 4 1 see 
your hearts affected, I see your eyes weep. And, indeed, 
who can refrain weeping at the relation of such a story r 
But, behold ! I show you a mystery hid under the sacrifice 
of Abraham's only son which, unless your hearts are hard- 
ened, must cause you to weep tears of love, and that 
plentifully too. I would willingly hope you even pre- 
vent me here, and are ready to say, " It is the love of 
God in giving Jesus Christ to die for our sins." Yes ; 
that is it.' 

The evangelist had an ever-changing experience ; and 
before his grief for his son was assuaged he was putting 
forth all his energy to secure justice for his poor perse- 
cuted converts at Hampton, going from place to place 
preaching, pleading, and collecting money. The trial, 
which came off at Gloucester Assizes on March 3, 1711. 
was anticipated by the defendants with much confidence, 
because they reckoned that the gentlemen and the jury 
would be prejudiced against the Methodists. WMtefield 
entered court when the second witness was being ex- 
amined, and was the object of every one's attention, while, 
amid much laughter, the defendants' counsel went on to 
describe the Methodists after the fashion which best 
suited his bad case. In spite, however, of hard swearing, 
of oratorical pleading, and of the genteel influence which 
the rioters undoubtedly had at their back, the jury found 
the defendants guilty of the whole information lodged 
against them. There was great joy among the despised 



DISSENTERS. 



319 



sect over this decision ; and Whitefield's first act was to 
retire to his lodgings, and, along with some friends, kneel 
down and offer thanks to God ; then he went to the inn 
to pray, and give thanks with the witnesses, and exhort 
them to behave with meekness and humility to their ad- 
versaries. In the evening he preached (his texts were 
always happily chosen) on the Psalmist's words, ' By this 
I know that thou favourest me, since thou hast not suf- 
fered mine enemy to triumph over me.' The next morn- 
ing he hurried off to London, where a great thanksgiving 
service was celebrated. As for the rioters, they were 
greatly alarmed, not knowing that the Methodists only 
intended to show them what they could do, and then for- 
give them. 

Our narrative must now run back for a few months, 
that we may note the attitude of the Dissenters towards 
Whitefield. Many of them had shown him much kind- 
ness, but, with the exception of Doddridge and Watts, 
their leaders looked upon him with contempt, or dislike, 
or fear. And for the fear there was some reason. Dis- 
senters were only permitted to hold their religious 
opinions under great disadvantages, and were studiously 
kept down in the state. In consequence, there was a 
great desire on the part of most of them to keep on 
friendly terms with the Established Church, and not to 
risk in any wise the good opinion of its bishops and 
clergy. Theirs was the worldly-wise, cautious spirit of 
men who felt that any false step might multiply their dis- 
abilities, not the fearless spirit of those who could safely 
dare to assume any position. Whitefield, the dread of 
orderly bishops, and the reproach of idle clergymen, they 
therefore carefully shunned. To consort with him would 
have exposed them to double odium — the odium of 
dissent and the odium of Methodism. 

Great weight must also be attached to their laudable 
desire to grapple on safe ground with all forms of reli- 



320 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



gious error ; and it was not deemed safe, in dealing with 
Deism, to lie open to the charge of enthusiasm. Only 
the calm, argumentative preacher, such as Butler, or 
Waterland, could be heard against the wit and argu- 
ments of Woolston, Shaftesbury, Collins, and Tindal. A 
feverish fear, only paralleled by that which any sensible 
man might now have of being esteemed a fanatic, agi- 
tated nearly all Christian apologists, of being suspected of 
any sympathy with ardent devotion and burning zeal. 
A reasonable faith, a faith well buttressed with argu- 
ments on the evidences of religion, and quiet, sedate 
religious habits, were supposed to constitute the proper, 
if not the perfect, Christian. Any such passion as glowed 
in the hearts of the early Methodists, common-sense and 
reason must condemn and avoid. To have anything to 
do with the most religious, if not the most learned or the 
most intellectual, class of that time, was virtually to yield 
up the right of speaking on religion. Who dare write 
against Collins, if he had shaken hands with Whitefield 
or Wesley — the enthusiasts, the reproach of Christianity, 
men whose very profession of Christianity made it require 
a fresh apology from its accomplished defenders to its 
equally able assailants? 

Doddridge, who had many friends in the Establish- 
ment, 1 and who also took a lively interest in all public 
movements affecting the honour of religion and the wel- 
fare of mankind, stands out as a noble exception to the 
somewhat timid body with which he was allied. His 
sound and varied learning, together with his solid judg- 
ment, covered him from the sneer that he was a poor 
enthusiast, while his humble piety compelled him to 
countenance the new party in the Church. Persuaded 

1 It is pleasant to remember that Warburton, who was long on friendly 
terms with Doddridge, procured for him some comforts in the packet-beats, 
when Doddridge sailed for Lisbon in search of health : as it turned out ; he 
went abroad only to die. 



DR. DODDRIDGE. 



321 



of the usefulness of Whitefield's ministrations, lie did not 
fear to entertain the evangelist and to bid him God 
speed. His magnanimity surpassed that of Watts, who 
was very cautious with the 4 erratic curate.' He even 
went to the extent of supplying Whitefield's place as 
preacher at the Tabernacle ; and at their next interview 
Watts said : 4 1 am sorry that since your departure I have 
had many questions asked me about your preaching in 
the Tabernacle, and sinking the character of a minister, 
and especially of a tutor, 1 among the Dissenters, so low 
thereby. I find many of our friends entertain this idea ; 
but I can give no answer, as not knowing how much you 
have been engaged there. I pray God to guard us from 
every temptation.' Doddridge, always thoughtful, con- 
scientious, and liberal, knew what the Methodists were, 
and what they were doing among the rude, ignorant, and 
irreligious part of the population ; and was not to be 
moved out of his position either by ominous shakes of 
the head or by open opposition on the part of his co- 
religionists. When the hackneyed charge of enthusiasm 
was levelled against them his noble reply was : 6 In some 
extraordinary conversions there may be and often is a 
tincture of enthusiasm : but, having weighed the matter 
diligently, I think a man had better be a sober, honest, 
chaste, industrious enthusiast, than live without any re- 
gard to God and religion at all. I think it infinitely 
better that a man should be a religious Methodist than an 
adulterer, a thief, a swearer, a drunkard, or a rebel to his 
parents, as I know some actually were who have been 
wrought upon and reformed by these preachers.' 

On Whitefield's first visit to Northampton, Doddridge 
was only polite in personal intercourse, but on the second, 
he opened his pulpit to him ; and this act of brotherly 
kindness Whitefield, we may be sure, would have re- 

1 Doddridge Lad an academy for training godly young men for the 
ministry ; he was pastor, tutor, and author. 

Y 



322 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



corded in some way with grateful acknowledgment, had 
it not been done the same week in which his son was 
born, and when he had not time to write more than one 
short note, which, of course, was upon the greater event. 
Doddridge's daring charity soon brought a rebuke from 
London. Nathanael Neal, an attorney, and son of Neal, 
the historian of the Puritans, said, in a time-serving letter, 
dated October 11, 1743 : 4 It was with the utmost concern 
that I received the information of Mr. Whitefleld's having 
preached last week in your pulpit, and that I attended 
the meeting of Coward's Trustees this day, when that 
matter was canvassed, and that I now find myself obliged 
to apprise you of the very great uneasiness which your 
conduct herein has occasioned them. 

4 The many characters you sustain with so much ho- 
nour, and in which I reverence you so highly, make me 
ashamed, and the character I sustain of your friend makes 
it extremely irksome for me, to express any sentiments 
as mine which may seem to arraign your conduct ; but- 
when I reflect in how disadvantageous a light your re- 
gard to the Methodists has for some considerable time 
placed you in the opinion of many whom I have reason 
to believe you esteem amongst your most judicious and 
hearty friends, and what an advantage it has given 
against you to your secret and avowed enemies, of either 
of which facts I believe you are not in any just degree 
sensible, I could run any hazard of your censure rather 
than that you should remain unapprised of these facts. 

4 You cannot be ignorant how obnoxious the impru- 
dences committed, or alleged to be committed, by some 
of the Methodists, have rendered them to great numbers 
of people; and though, indeed, supposing they have a 
spirit of religion amongst them to be found nowhere else, 
so that a man would, for his own sake, and at any 
temporal hazard, take his lot amongst them, jet if, 
besides their reputation for a forward and indiscreet zeal, 



DR. DODDRIDGE. 



323 



and an unsettled, injudicious way of thinking and behav- 
ing, they have nothing to distinguish them from other 
serious and devout Christians, surely every man would 
choose to have as little concern with them as possible. 

'But in the case of such a public character, and so 
extensive a province for the service of religion as yours, 
it seems to me a point well worth considering, whether, 
supposing even the ill-opinion the world entertains of 
them to be groundless, it is a right thing to risk such a 
prospect as Providence has opened before you, of eminent 
and distinguished usefulness, for the sake of any good 
you are likely to do amongst these people. 

' For my own part, I have had the misfortune of 
observing, and I must not conceal it from you, that 
wherever I have heard it mentioned that Dr. Doddridge 
countenanced the Methodists — and it has been the subject 
of conversation much oftener than I could have wished — 
I have heard it constantly spoken of by his friends with 
concern, as threatening a great diminution of his useful- 
ness, and by his adversaries Avith a sneer of triumph. 

6 The Trustees are particularly in pain for it with re- 
gard to your academy, as they know it is an objection 
made to it by some persons in all appearance seriously, 
and by others craftily ; and yet they are afraid of giving 
their thoughts even in the most private manner concern- 
ing it, lest it should be made an occasion of drawing 
them into a public opposition to the Methodists, as they 
are likely to be in some measure by your letter to Mr. 
Mason (excusing your prefixing a recommendation of a 
book of theirs, without the advice of the Trustees), which 
letter they have desired me to inform you has given them 
great offence.' 

A quick answer returned from Northampton, and on 
October 15 Neal wrote again. He says : 4 1 am not insen- 
sible, sir, that the respect many of your people bore to 
Mr. Whitefield, and your own acquaintance with him, 



324 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 

must have made it a matter of difficulty for you entirely 
to have avoided showing him some polite regards on his 
coming to Northampton ; and I greatly rejoice in being 
furnished with so particular an account of the circum- 
stances attending his visit that may enable me to say 
you were so far at that time from seeking his preaching 
in your pulpit that you took several steps, and indeed all 
that you thought you could prudently venture on, and 
such as might, if they had succeeded, have been sufficient 
to have prevented it ; which I doubt not will, and I am 
sure ought, to have some weight with those who censure 
this step on the ground of imprudence. I could only 
wish that I were able to make these circumstances known 
as far as that censure is likely to extend.' 

Doddridge continued 4 imprudent,' and dared the 6 cen- 
sure ; ' so that Neal returned again to the task of remon- 
strating. His third letter is more direct, and plainly tells 
the feelings which he had only hinted at before : 

1 Million Bank, December 10, 1743. 

4 1 am sorry you appear so apprehensive in your last letter, 
lest I should interpret what yon said in your first too unfa- 
vourably of the Methodists and Mr. Whitefield, as it confirms 
me in my fears of your attachment to them; but, whatever 
my wishes were in that respect, you may be assured I could 
never venture to represent you as indifferent to them, when 
I read your commendation of his sermon for its excellence 
and oratory, and remember the low, incoherent stuff I used 
to hear him utter at Kennington Common. 

6 Whilst I continued oppressed and hurt with these reflec- 
tions, your excellent sermon for the County Hospital came in 
to my relief. The piety, the justness of the sentiments and 
arguments, the manly, graceful diction, and the benevolent 
spirit that runs through the whole of it, both amazed and 
charmed me. It must have extorted from any heart less 
acquainted with your disposition for public usefulness than I 
am, a devout ejaculation that God would never permit such 
talents to come under a wrong direction, or suffer the disad- 



DR. DODDEIDGE. 



325 



vantages they must necessarily submit to, if engaged amongst 
men of weak heads and narrow, gloomy sentiments, who may 
and ought to be pitied and prayed for, and better informed, 
as opportunity allows, but whom no rules of piety or prudence 
will oblige us to make our friends and confidants. 

4 There are letters shown about town from several ministers 
in the west which make heavy complaints of the disorders 
occasioned by Whitefield and Wesley in those parts. One of 
them, speaking of Mr. Whitefield, calls him " honest, crazy, 
confident Whitefield." These letters likewise mention that 
some ministers there, who were your pupils, have given him 
countenance ; and you can hardly conceive the disrespect this 
has occasioned several ministers and other persons in town to 
speak of you with. Whether you are aware of this I know 
not ; and I am sure, if I did not esteem it a mark of sincere 
friendship, I would not give you the uneasiness of hearing it.' 

The answer of Doddridge is plain and honest : 

c I am truly sorry,' he says, £ that the manner in which I 
spoke of Mr. Whitefield in my last should give you uneasiness. 
I hope I did not assert his sermon to have been free from its 
defects ; but I must be extremely prejudiced indeed if it were 
such " wild, incoherent stuff " as you heard on Kennington 
Common. Nor does it seem at all difficult to account for this ; 
for that preached here, which I believe was one of his most 
elaborate and, perhaps, favourite discourses, might deserve to 
be spoken of in a different manner. What I then said pro- 
ceeded from a principle which I am sure you will not despise 
— I mean a certain frankness of heart which would not allow 
me to seem to think more meanly of a man to whom I once 
professed some friendship than I really did. I must, indeed, 
look upon it as an unhappy circumstance that he came to 
Northampton just when he did, as I perceive that, in con- 
currence with other circumstances, it has filled town and 
country with astonishment and indignation. Nor did I, indeed, 
imagine my character to have been of such great importance 
in the world as that this little incident should have been 
taken so much notice of. I believe the true reason is, that for 
no other fault than my not being able to go so far as some of 
my brethren into the new ways of thinking and speaking, I 



326 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



have long had a multitude of enemies, who have been watching 
for some occasion against me ; and I thank God that they have 
hitherto, with all that malignity of heart which some of them 
have expressed, been able to find no greater. 

4 1 had, indeed, great expectations from the Methodists and 
Moravians. I am grieved, from my heart, that so many things 
have occurred among them which have been quite unjustifi- 
able ; and I assure you faithfully they are such as would have 
occasioned me to have dropped that intimacy of correspondence 
which I once had with them. And I suppose they have also 
produced the same sentiments in the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, who, to my certain knowledge, received Count Zinzendorf 
with open arms, and wrote of his being chosen the Moravian 
Bishop, as what was done " plaudente toto ccelesti choro." I 
shall always be ready to weigh whatever can be said against 
Mr. Whitefield, as well as against any of the rest ; and though 
I must have actual demonstration before I can admit him to 
be a dishonest man, and though I shall never be able to think 
all he has written and all I have heard from him nonsense, yet 
I am not so zealously attached to him as to be disposed to 
celebrate him as one of the greatest men of the age, or to 
think that he is the pillar that bears up the whole interest of 
religion among us. And if this moderation of sentiment 
towards him will not appease my angry brethren, as I am sen- 
sible it will not abate the enmity which some have for many 
years entertained towards me, I must acquiesce, and be patient 
till the day of the Lord, when the secrets of all hearts shall be 
made manifest ; in which I do from my heart believe that 
with respect to the part I have acted in this affair I shall not 
be ashamed. 

6 1 had before heard from some of my worthy friends in the 
west of the offence which had been taken at two of my pupils 
there for the respect they showed to Mr. Whitefield ; and yet 
they are both persons of eminent piety. He whose name is 
chiefly in question — I mean Mr. Darracott — is one of the most 
devout and extraordinary men I ever sent out ; and a person 
who has within these few years been highly useful to numbers 
of his hearers. Some of these, who were the most abandoned 
characters in the place, are now become serious and useful 
Christians ; and he himself has honoured his profession, when 
to all around him he seemed on the borders of eternity, by a 



DK. DODDEIDGE. 



327 



behaviour which, in such awful circumstances, the best of men 
might wish to be their own. Mr. Fawcett labours likewise at 
Taunton ; and his zeal, so far as I can judge, is inspired both 
with love and prudence. Yet I hear these men are reproached 
because they have treated Mr. Whitefield respectfully; and 
that one of them, after having had a correspondence with him 
for many years, admitted him into his jDulpit. I own I am 
very thoughtful when these things will end : in the meantime, 
I am as silent as I can be. I commit the matter to God in 
prayer, and earnestly beg His direction, that He would lead me 
in a plain path. Sometimes I think the storm will soon blow 
over, and that things will return again to their natural course. 
I am sure I see no danger that any of my pupils will prove 
Methodists : I wish many of them may not run into the con- 
trary extreme. It is really, sir, with some confusion that I read 
your encomium upon my sermon : I am sensible it is some con- 
solation to me amidst the uneasiness which, as you conclude, 
other things must give me.' 

Two sentences, in which the devout, tender, and 
bumble spirit of Doddridge expresses itself, are, when 
taken in connexion with many similar expressions of 
Whitefield, a sufficient explanation of the firm union 
between these distinguished Christians : ' I am one of 
the least of God's children,' said Doddridge, 4 and yet a 
child ; and that is my daily joy. Indeed, I feel my 
love to Him increase ; I struggle forwards toward Him, 
and look at Him, as it were, sometimes with tears of 
love, when, in the midst of the hurries of life, I cannot 
speak to Him otherwise than by an ejaculatiom' 1 

Other persons, of a different communion, and more 

1 Philip, who, in his 1 Life and Times of Whitefield,' was the first to point 
out the unfriendly feeling of many Dissenters towards Whitefield, has at- 
tempted to explain it on the ground that Dissenters were hoping to get 
a ' Comprehension Scheme ' brought into operation, by which they might be 
included in the Establishment ; but the letter of Barker, a London Dissenting 
minister, to Doddridge on the subject, which he quotes, and on which he 
mainly bases his conclusion, was not written till February 2, 1748, whereas 
it is of the feeling which displayed itself in 1743 that an explanation is 
wanted. Again, not a word is said about the ' Comprehension Scheme ' in 
Neal's letters to Doddridge ; and Barker himself treats it more as a passing 



328 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



exalted in station than Neal, were trying as well as he 
what could be done in a secret way to damage the 
Methodists in general, and Whitefield in particular. 
The mean attempt to sever Doddridge from his friend 
was probably never known to its intended victim; but 
this other meaner work of an enemy, or rather enemies, 
did come to his knowledge. On January 26, 1744, the 
following advertisement appeared in London : — 

'Whereas some anonymous papers against the people called 
Methodists in general, and myself and friends in particular, have 
been for some weeks printed in a large edition, and handed 
about and read in the religious societies of the cities of London 
and Westminster, and given into the hands of many private 
persons, with strict injunctions to lend them to no one, nor let 
them go out of their hands to any, and whereas, after having 
had the hasty perusal of them, I find many queries of great 
importance concerning me and my conduct contained therein ; 
and as it appears that our paper has little or no connection 
with another, and a copy, when applied for, was refused me, 
and I know not how soon I may embark for G-eorgia, I am 
therefore obliged hereby to desire a speedy open publication of 
the aforesaid papers, in order that a candid, impartial answer 
may be made thereto by me, 

£ George Whitefield.' 



fancy than a serious intention. Neal assails Doddridge's conduct only on 
the ground that it is losing him caste in society and influence in the Deistic 
struggle, which engaged the finest talent of the church, both established 
and dissenting. Barker's letter further shows that a great body of Dissenters 
were averse from ' Comprehension,' even in 1748 : ' We won't be compre- 
hended : we won't be comprehended/ they said ; so that any fear of upsetting 
a darling scheme by communion with the great Methodist leader could not 
have made them scout Whitefield. And as to the feeling of churchmen 
upon the subject, Herring, the Archbishop of Canterbury, confessed, iu 1748, 
that he had no great zeal for attempting anything to introduce Dissenters 
into the church, although he had 1 most candid sentiments concerning 
them.' Seeker said to Doddridge in 1744, in a letter which was only a 
friendly, not an official, communication : ' I see not the least prospect of it ' 
— i.e., union between church and dissent — ' for they who should be the most 
concerned for it, are most of them too little so. And of others, few that 
have influence think it can be worth while either to take any pains, or spend 
any time, about matters of this nature : and too many judge the continuance 
of a se aration useful to their particular schemes.' 



ASSAILED BY THE BISHOPS. 



329 



Humour was not silent about the authorship of the 
secret papers; no less a personage than the Bishop of 
London was singled out as their writer. Whitefield, 
accordingly, with the frankness and courage which 
always distinguished him, wrote to the bishop himself to 
ask for information : 

' London, Feb. 1, 1744. 
6 My Lord, — Simplicity becomes the followers of Jesus Christ, 
and therefore I think it my duty to trouble your lordship with 
these few lines. I suppose your lordship has seen the adver- 
tisement published by me, about four days ago, concerning 
some anonymous papers which have been handed about in the 
societies for some considerable time. As I think it my duty to 
answer them, I should be glad to be informed whether the report 
be true that your lordship composed them, that I may the better 
know to whom I may direct my answer. A sight also of one of 
the copies, if in your lordship's keeping, would much oblige, 
my lord, 

4 Your lordship's most obliged, dutiful son and servant, 

6 GrEOEGE WhITEFIELD. 

' PS. The bearer will bring your lordship's answer ; or if 
your lordship please to favour me with a line, be pleased to 
direct for me, to be left with Mr. J. Syms.' 

To this letter the bishop sent no answer at all ; but 
two days after it was sent to him his printer left the 
following suggestive note for Whitefield : — 

' February 3, 1744. 
' Sir, — My name is Owen. I am a printer in Amen Corner ; 
and I waited upon you to let you know that I have had orders 
from several of the bishops to print for their use such numbers 
of the " Observations upon the Conduct and Behaviour of the 
Methodists " — with some additions — as they have respectively 
bespoken. And I will not fail to wait upon you with one copy 
as soon as the impression is finished. 
6 I am, sir, 

' Your most obedient, &c. ? 

I have not had a copy of the anonymous pamphlet in 



330 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

my hand, and cannot say what were its contents, but 
they are not difficult to discover from Whiteneld's 
4 Answer,' which he addressed in a 4 Letter to the Eight 
Eeverend the Bishop of London, and the other Eight 
Reverend the Bishops concerned in the publication 
thereof,' namely, of the pamphlet. Whitefield charged 
the pamphlet with having an intention to represent the 
proceedings of the Methodists as dangerous to the Church 
and State, in order to procure an Act of Parliament 
against them, or to oblige them to secure themselves by 
turning Dissenters, that is, putting themselves under the 
Toleration Act. His answer to such an attempt was the 
same as he gave to the Scotch Presbyterians : 4 As yet 
we see no sufficient reason to leave the Church of En^- 
land, and turn Dissenters ; neither will we do it till we 
are thrust out. When a ship is leaky, prudent sailors 
that value the cargo will not leave it to sink, but rather 
continue in it so long as they can, to help pump out 
the water.' The pamphlet charged the Methodists with 
breaking the statute law by their field-preaching ; and to 
be quite sure of the law on this point, Whitefield perused 
all the Acts of Charles II. in which the word 4 field ' is 
mentioned. His conclusion was, that Acts against field- 
preaching related only to seditious conventicles ; and of 
this offence Methodism was not guilty. Then Whitefield 
enters upon a defence of his favourite mode of reaching 
the multitude. 4 Why, my lords,' he asks, 4 should the 
author be so averse to held-preaching ? Was not the 
best sermon that was ever preached delivered on a 
mount ? Did not our glorious Emmanuel, after He was 
thrust out of the synagogues, preach from a ship, in a 
wilderness, &c. ? Did not the Apostles, after His ascen- 
sion, preach in schools, public markets, and such like 
places of resort and concourse ? And can we copy after 
better examples ? If it be said that the world was then 
heathen, I answer, and am persuaded your lordships will 



KABBLE CONGREGATIONS. 



331 



agree with me in this, that there are thousands and ten 
thousands in his Majesty's dominions as ignorant of true 
and undefiled religion as ever the heathen were. And 
are not persons who dare venture out, and show such 
poor souls the way to heaven, real friends both of Church 
and State ? And why then, my lords, should the civil 
power be applied to in order to quell and suppress 
them, or a pamphlet encouraged by several of the right 
reverend the bishops, which is manifestly calculated for 
that purpose ? I would humbly ask your lordships 
whether it would not be more becoming your lordships' 
characters to put your clergy on preaching against 
revelling, cock-fighting, and such like, than to move the 
Government against those who, out of love to God and 
precious souls, put their lives in their hand, and preach 
unto such revellers repentance towards God and faith 
towards our Lord Jesus ? What if the Methodists " by 
public advertisements do invite the rabble ? " Is not the 
same done by other clergy, and even by your lordships, 
when you preach charity sermons? But, my lords, what 
does the author mean by the rabble ? I suppose, the com- 
mon people. If so, these are they who always heard the 
blessed Jesus gladly. It was chiefly the poor, my lords, the 
o%hog, the turba, the mob, the multitude, these people 
who, the Scribes and Pharisees said, knew not the law, 
and were accursed ; these were they that were evangelised, 
had the gospel preached unto them, and received the 
Spirit of God's dear Son. Supposing we do advertise the 
rabble, and none but such make up our auditories — which 
is quite false — if this be the Methodists' shame, they may 
glory in it. For these rabble, my lords, have precious 
and immortal souls, for which the dear Eedeemer shed 
His precious blood, as well as the great and rich. These, 
my lords, are the publicans and harlots that enter into 
the kingdom of heaven, whilst self-righteous formal pro- 
fessors reject it. To show such poor sinners the way to 



332 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

God, to preach to them the power of Christ's resurrec- 
tion, and to pluck them as firebrands out of the burning, 
the Methodist preachers go out into the highways and 
hedges. If this is to be vile, by the help of my God I 
shall be more vile ; neither count I my life dear unto 
myself, so that I may finish my course with joy, and be 
made instrumental in turning any of this rabble to 
righteousness. And however such kind of preachers may 
be everywhere spoken against now, yet I doubt not but 
at the great decisive day they will be received with an 
Euge bene, and shine as stars in the firmament for ever 
and ever ; whilst those who have only " divined for hire, 
have fed themselves, and not the flock, and lorded it 
over God's heritage," perhaps, may pay dear for their 
preferment, and rise to everlasting contempt. Pardon 
me, my lords, for expressing myself here with some 
decree of warmth. I must own it gives me concern to 
see some of the clergy strain at a gnat, and swallow a 
camel, and attempt to pull out the mote out of our eyes, 
before they have pulled the beam out of their own. Is 
it not ridiculous, my lords, even in the eyes of worldly 
men, and does it not render the author of this pamphlet 
justly liable to contempt, to charge the Methodists with 
breaking canons and rubrics, which is really not their 
fault ; when at the same time he knows that the gene- 
rality of the clergy so notoriously break both canons and 
rubrics, and that too in the most important articles, such 
as not catechising, pluralities, non-residence, &c, every- 
day themselves? With what face can he do it? Is not 
this like Nero's setting Borne on fire, and then charging 
it upon the Christians ? May not " physician heal thy- 
self " be immediately retorted on him ? ' 

The Eev. Thomas Church, vicar of Battersea, came 
to the rescue of the bishops with a 4 Serious and Expos- 
tulatory Letter to the Eev. George Whitefield.' He 



SELF-VINDICATIOIS T . 



ooo 
OOO 



raised a few questions which throw some light upon 
Whitefield's ecclesiastical position. There were irregu- 
larities in curtailing the liturgy, or not using the Common 
Prayer in the fields — what had Whitefield to say about 
them ? That when, and only when, his ecclesiastical 
superiors should arraign him at the bar of the proper 
ecclesiastical courts would he give any answer at all to the 
question. No doubt he would, had he been arraigned, 
have said that his method was advantageous to the spi- 
ritual welfare of his congregations, and that therefore he 
adopted it ; but whether such an answer would have been 
accounted canonically satisfactory may be fairly doubted. 
There was his non-residence at Savannah — what could 
he say in defence of that ? He replied : 4 1 wish every 
non-resident minister in England could give as good an 
account of their non-residence as I can of my absence 
from Savannah. When I came over to England to receive 
priest's orders, and collect money for building an orphan- 
house, the honourable Trustees, at the request of many, 
presented me to the living of Savannah. I accepted it, 
but refused the stipend of fifty pounds per annum which 
they generously offered me. Neither did I put them to 
any expense during my stay in England, where I thought 
it my duty to abide till I had collected a sufficient sum 
wherewith I might begin the orphan-house, though I 
should have left England sooner had I not been pre- 
vented by the embargo. However, I was more easy, 
because the honourable Trustees I knew had sent over 
another minister, who arrived soon after I left the colony. 
Upon my second arrival in Georgia, finding the care of 
the orphan-house, and the care of the parish, too great a 
task for me, I immediately wrote over to the honourable 
Trustees to provide another minister. In the meanwhile, 
as most of my parishioners were in debt, or ready to 
leave the colony for want of being employed, and as I 



334 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



believed that erecting an orphan-house would be the best 
thing I could do for them and their posterity, I thought 
it my duty from time to time to answer the invitations 
that were sent me to preach Christ Jesus in several parts 
of America, and to make more collections towards carry- 
ing on the orphan-house. The Lord stirred up many to 
be ready to distribute and willing to communicate on 
this occasion. I always came home furnished with pro- 
visions and money, most of which was expended among 
the people, and by this means the northern part of the 
colony almost entirely subsisted for a considerable time. 
And now, sir, judge you whether my non-residence was 
anything like the non-residence of most of the English 
clergy. When I was absent from my parishioners, I was 
not loitering or living at ease, but preaching and begging 
for them and theirs ; and when I returned, it was not 
to fleece my flock, and then go and spend it upon my 
lusts, or lay it up for a fortune for myself and relations.' 

The family at Bethesda, long wishful to see him, and 
the thousands living between Savannah and Boston, who 
wished again to hear him and sent him urgent requests 
to come among them, constrained him to take his fifth 
voyage to America; and in June, 1744, he took passage 
in a ship which was to sail from Portsmouth. Second 
thoughts, but not better ones, led the captain to refuse 
him a berth in his ship for fear he might spoil the sailors. 
He then betook himself to Plymouth, and secured a 
passage in a mast-ship that was to sail under convoy to 
Piscataway, in New England. The journey from London 
to the seaport was a pleasant one, through the midst of 
warm friends and loving converts ; and as he went from 
place to place he encouraged believers and called sinners 
to repentance. Plymouth was not at first altogether 
gratified with the distinction that rested upon it for 
several weeks. It was presumed that Whitefield would 
be sure to appear on the Hoe — a large green for walks 



ASSAULTED IX BED. 



and diversions — on the night of his arrival; and, to 
oppose him and draw away his congregation, some one 
brought a bear and a drum. But the first announce- 
ment of his arrival was false news ; and both crowd 
and bear were disappointed. The following night brought 
him ; and his first taste of Plymouth civility was the 
bursting open of his room-door by several men under 
pretence of a hue-and-cry. He then withdrew from the 
inn to private lodgings ; but this was no protection 
against the purpose of a little knot of fast young men, 
who had resolved, probably in a bragging spirit, to put 
indignity upon him, if not to injure him. Four gentle- 
men called at the house of a particular friend of his to 
ask for his address ; and soon afterwards a letter came 
to him from one who represented himself as a nephew of 
Mr. S., an eminent attorney in New York, stating that 
the writer had once supped with W hite field at Mr. S.'s 
house, and desiring Whitefield's company to sup with 
him and a few more friends at a tavern. Whitefield 
replied that it was not his custom to sup out at taverns, 
but that out of respect for his uncle, he should be glad 
to see him at his lodgings to eat a morsel with him. 
The young man, a would-be 6 assassin,' as Whitefield has 
described him (the word must surely be a mistake), came, 
and behaved himself somewhat strangely ; his mind was 
absent from the conversation, and his eyes kept wander- 
ing round the room. He bade his host good night, and 
returned to the company of his comrades. Asked by 
them what he had done, he replied that he had not the 
heart to touch a man who had treated him so civilly. A 
lieutenant of a man-of-war then laid a wager of ten 
guineas that he would do the 4 business ' for the Me- 
thodist preacher. Disarmed of his sword, which his 
companions took from him, he presented himself at the 
door of Whitefield's lodgings about midnight. The good 
man was in bed ; but when the landlady told him that a 



336 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

well-dressed gentleman wanted to see him, he thought it 
must be some Nicodemite, and desired him to be brought 
upstairs. The visitor sat down by the bedside, told 
Whitefield his profession, congratulated him on the suc- 
cess of his ministry, expressed his concern at having been 
detained from hearing him, asked him if he knew who 
he was, and on being answered 4 Xo,' gave his name as 
Cadogan, and Avhen Whitefield remarked that he had 
seen a gentleman of the same name at Bristol a fort- 
night ago, rose up and began to call him the most 
abusive names, at the same time beating him violently 
with his gold-headed cane. The attack threw White- 
field into a paroxysm of fear, as he kept expecting that 
his assailant would stab or shoot him. Instead of at- 
tempting any self-defence, he only raised the cry of 
4 murder,' which soon brought the landlady and her 
daughter into the room, and had them holding the bully 
by the collar. But he quickly freed himself, and re- 
sumed his attack on the man in bed. The cry of murder 
raised by all three at last made him afraid, and as he 
retreated to the chamber door, the landlady helped him 
downstairs with a push. Then a second bully — no 
doubt the whole band were outside listening to the 
scuffle — shouted out, 4 Take courage, I am ready to help 
you,' and rushing upstairs while his friend was escaping, 
took one of the women by the heels, and threw her so 
violently upon the stairs as almost to break her back. 
By this time the neighbourhood was alarmed, and thus 
the sport of the young gentlemen came to an end. The 
house door was shut, and Whitefield went to sleep medi- 
tating on the propriety with which we are taught in the 
Litanv to pray — 4 From sudden death, good Lord, deliver 
us!' 

Preaching work called Whitefield out next morning, 
and he went to it, saying to his friends who counselled 
the prosecution of the offenders, that he had better work 



A REMARKABLE CONVERSION. 



337 



to do, a restraint for which we cannot but commend him. 
The assault increased his popularity : curiosity drew two 
thousand more to hear a man who ' had like to have been 
murdered in his bed ;' half of them, perhaps, to see a man 
who had like to have been murdered, and the other half 
to see a man who could lie in his bed while the murder- 
ing was going on. Yet there was undoubtedly some 
danger to be apprehended. Once his voice arrested the 
attention of a band of workmen who were passing near 
the field in which he preached ; and thinking him mad, 
they filled their pockets with stones to pelt him, and 
arranged to throw him from his block. Their resolution, 
however, failed when they came to stand for a little while 
under the charm of his eloquence ; and one of them at 
least went home with a serious heart, and a resolution in 
it that he would come as;ain the next ni^ht, and hear 
more. The next night the sermon was on the text 
4 Beginning at Jerusalem,' and contained, as it was sure 
to do in the hands of a pictorial preacher, and one who 
sought the recovery of ' Jerusalem sinners ' with the 
greatest devotion, a description of 4 the cruel murder of 
the Lord of life.' It was an admirable topic for ad- 
mitting a close application of truth to the conscience ; 
and when the last sad scenes in our Lord's life had been 
pourtrayed, Whitefield said to his congregation, ' You are 
reflecting on the cruelty of these inhuman butchers, who 
imbrued their hands in innocent blood.' As he spoke 
his eye fell on the young shipbuilder ; and then, while 
speaker and hearer seemed to be only with each other in 
the consciousness of each other's glance, he added, 4 Thou 
art the man.' The effect was great and manifest ; and 
Whitefield, with his own peculiar facility for fastening on 
any passing event, and for preaching to one person in the 
midst of a multitude without any but that person know- 
ing of it, went on to speak words of tenderness and en- 
couragement. A third time did the young man come to 



338 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

hear, and this time to enter into joy and peace in be- 
lieving. By and by he in turn ventured to preach the 
gospel ; and his ministry was one which could boast that 
hardly one of its sermons had fallen uselessly to the 
ground. His last end was according to an earnest and 
oft-repeated prayer, and such as became a good servant 
of the Lord Jesus Christ ; strength failed him in the 
pulpit, and he was carried thence to die. 

The evangelist laboured bravely amidst his troubles, 
whilst a contrary wind hindered him from sailing ; and, 
as had happened a hundred times before, prejudice and 
opposition yielded to his love and effort. Freely and of 
themselves some who had been opposed offered him a 
piece of ground surrounded with walls for a society room. 
Great companies of people, with him in the midst, would 
return from the dock at night, singing and praising God. 
The ferrymen, too, at the ferry had an interest in the 
religious work which had been set on foot, and would 
not take toll from the crowds which passed over to hear 
the sermons. 4 God forbid that we should sell the word 
of God,' said the kind-hearted fellows. 



339 



CHAPTEE X. 
August, 1744, to July, 1748. 

FIFTH VOYAGE ADVENTURES AND CONTROVERSIES —WANDERINGS IN 

AMERICA INVALIDED IN BERMUDAS — SIXTH VOYAGE. 

The fifth voyage was diversified with nautical adventures 
and theological discussions. The usual dangers of ocean 
travelling were at this time, August 1744, increased by 
the men-of-war which were cruising for spoil. France 
and England were at their old folly of treating each other 
as natural enemies. The fleet of one hundred and fifty 
ships which sailed out of Plymouth Sound was therefore 
attended by several convoys ; and a good deal of ner- 
vousness was evidently abroad. One day an ominous 
fleet was sighted, but it turned out to be only a friendly 
Dutch one. Another alarm arose from the sail of Ad- 
miral Balchen, 6 who rode by receiving the obeisance of 
the surrounding ships, as though he was lord of the 
whole ocean.' Whitefield was in poor health, suffering 
from a violent pain in his side, and the tedious voyage 
increased his trouble. Fully six weeks were consumed 
between Plymouth and the Western Isles, and off the 
islands they lay floating in a calm for days ; then, as the 
wind sprung up a little, there came a mishap which 
might have sent a vessel to the bottom. Orders were 
given to tack about, to take advantage of the breeze, and 
one of the ships, missing her stays in turning, ran directly 
against the 4 Wilmington,' on the deck of which sat White- 
field, with his wife and friends around him, singing a 
hymn. The 'Wilmington,' being the larger vessel, suffered 



340 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



no damage, while the other was so broken that the cries 
and groans of her apprehensive crew were awful. Pre- 
sently they came up with the convoy, and when White- 
field's captain informed them of what had happened, they 

answered, 4 This is your praying, and be d to ye.' 

Shocked by the profanity, the praying men got together, 
and Whitefield, expressing their feelings, cried out, ' God 
of the sea and God of the dry land, this is a night of 
rebuke and blasphemy ; show Thyself, God, and take 
us under Thy own immediate protection ; be Thou our 
convoy, and make a difference between those that fear 
Thee and those that fear Thee not.' The next day a 
violent gale parted the 6 Wilmington ' from the convoy, 
which was seen no more during the rest of the voyage — 
a circumstance which, with . one day's exception, proved 
rather agreeable than otherwise to Whitefield. Until 
the adventure of that day comes in its proper order, we 
may go into Whitefield 's cabin, and consider the thoughts 
which he is planning for the benefit of the Bishop of 
London, and the bishop's brethren, who wrote the anony- 
mous pamphlet once before mentioned, or, at any rate, 
<xave authoritative countenance to it. 

The pamphlet complained of the irregular practices of 
the Methodists, and then proceeded to enquire whether 
the doctrines they taught, or the lengths they ran beyond 
what was practised among the religious societies, or in 
other Christian churches, would be a service or a dis- 
service to religion. The startling effects of Whitefield's 
preaching, the crying and fainting and convulsions, such 
as appeared at Cambuslang, were laid upon him as a 
reproach ; and it is well to know what he himself thought 
of them. Eeferring to a question in the pamphlet on the 
subject, he says, 'Would not one imagine by this query 
that these itinerants laid down such things as screamings, 
tremblings, &c, as essential marks of the co-operation of 
the Holy Spirit ? But can any such thing be proved ? 



EXTRAORDINARY EFFECTS OF PREACHING. 



341 



Are they not looked upon by these itinerants themselves 
as extraordinary things, proceeding generally from soul 
distress, and sometimes, it may be, from the agency of the 
evil spirit, who labours to drive poor souls into despair ? 
Does not this appear from the relation given of them in 
one of the journals referred to? Are there not many 
relations of the co-operation of the Spirit in the same 
journal, where no such bodily effects are so much as 
hinted at? And does not this give ground to suspect, 
that the " due and regular attendance on the public offices 
of religion, paid by (what our author calls) good men, in 
a serious and composed way," is little better than a dead 
formal attendance on outward ordinances, which a man 
may continue in all his lifetime, and be all the while far 
from the kingdom of God? Did ever anyone before 
hear this urged as an evidence of co-operation of the 
Spirit? Or would anyone think that the author of the 
observations ever read the relations that are given of the 
conversion, of several in the Holy Scriptures ? For, may 
we not suppose, my lords, that many were cast into 
sudden agonies and scr earnings — Acts ii. 37 — when 
" they were pricked to the heart, and said unto Peter 
and the rest of the apostles, Men and brethren, what shall 
we do to be saved?" Or what would this author think 
of the conversion of the jailor — Acts x. 29, 30 — "Who 
sprang in, and came trembling and fell down before Paul 
and Silas ; and brought them out, and said, Sirs, what 
must I do to be saved?" Or w T hat would he think of 
Paul, who, trembling and astonished — Acts ix. 6 — said, 
"Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" and was after- 
wards three days without sight, and neither did eat nor 
drink? Is it not to be feared that if this author had 
been seated upon the bench, and heard this apostle give 
an account of his own conversion, he would have joined 
with Pestus in crying out with a loud voice, "Paul, 
much learning doth make thee mad ? " And are not all 



342 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



these things, and whatever else is recorded in the Book 
of God, written for our learning ? Is not God the same 
yesterday, to-day, and for ever ? And may He not now, 
as well as formerly, reveal His arm and display His 
power in bringing sinners home to Himself as suddenly 
and instantaneously as in the first planting of the gospel 
church ? ' 

With this important deduction from the instances 
quoted by Whitefield of persons undergoing great agony 
of mind at the time that they were turned from their 
own way of living to the way appointed by our Lord — 
that there was miracle to alarm them — his explanation 
may be accepted. Cloven tongues like as of fire glowed 
on the heads of the apostles at Pentecost ; and the sight of 
them doubtless added to the concern with which Peter's 
words filled many hearts. A great earthquake shook the 
foundations of the prison at Philippi, opened all doors, 
and unloosed all bonds ; and the jailor must have trem- 
bled in the throe, even had guilt not terrified his soul. It 
was the surprise of seeing at midday a light from heaven, 
above the brightness of the sun, shining round about 
them, that dashed Saul and his company to the ground ; 
although it is evident that conscience and the Spirit of 
God also wrought in his trembling and astonishment. 
' Soul distress,' as Whitefield calls the feeling of his 
hearers, is potent enough to make any knees shake, 
and any lips cry out. When the detection of guilt by 
fellow-mortals can make the sweat stand on the brows of 
hardy villains, there need be no questioning of the power 
of conscience to shake any soul with terror. And when 
the prospect of social disgrace or of corporal punishment 
can daunt the wicked, there need be no doubting that 
the consciousness of divine anger hanging over the head 
can produce sudden agony. If anyone should feel in all 
its awful significance the meaning of this, or of many 
similar passages of Holy Writ — ' He that believeth on the 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 



343 



Son hath everlasting life ; but he that belie veth not the 
Son shall not see life ; but the wrath of God abideth on 
him' — and also know that he believes not, there is no 
need to go to the ends of the earth to explain his rest- 
lessness, the fire in his bones, the roaring of his heart, 
and the manifestations of his inner feelings. 

The pamphlet further complained of Whitefield's no- 
tions of justification, and of the height to which he 
carried them. The gravamen of the charge is directly 
against the supposed immoral tendency of justification 
bestowed solely on the ground of another's merit, and has 
been already dealt with ; but all the conceptions, which 
in Whitefield's mind stood related to the conception of 
justification, may now have our consideration. His sys- 
tem was severely logical. The atonement was so much 
suffering endured on the part of our Lord at the hands 
of His angry Father, on behalf of so many sinners ; he 
says, 4 When Christ's righteousness is spoken of, we are to 
understand Christ's obedience and death — all that Christ 
has done, and all that Christ has suffered for an elect 
world, for all that will believe on Him.' The position 
of our Lord was purely that of a substitute. The sins of 
the elect were laid on Him in the most literal sense ; He 
was then as a sinner in the Father's sight, and before the 
Father's law ; and upon the head of such an One it was 
only meet that the fiery indignation should be poured. 
The active obedience of our Saviour constituted the 
extra righteousness in the moral world, which, not being 
required for Himself, since He was always pure and sin- 
less, might be imputed to any who would believe on 
Him. Whitefield's words are, 4 In that nature ' — i.e. our 
human nature — ' He obeyed, and thereby fulfilled the 
whole moral law in our stead ; and also died a painful 
death upon the cross, and thereby became a curse for, or 
instead of, those whom the Father had given to Him. 
As God He satisfied, at the same time that He obeyed 



344 LIFE AST) TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



and suffered as man ; and, being God and man in one 
person, He wrought out a full, perfect, and sufficient 
righteousness for all to whom it was to be imputed.' 
The language in which, in his favourite and thrilling 
sermon on ' The true wav of beholding the Lamb of 
God.' he describes the sufferings of the Eedeemer. is, in 
some parts, melting and attractive for its tender sym- 
pathy of love, and, in others, repulsive for its coarse 
exposition of that monstrous theory, that the Father 
punished in His anger His beloved Son. It has one 
sa\ ing clause, short indeed, but still a clause to which 
we cling with some hope that Whitefield was not quite 
satisfied with what he said. 4 The paschal lamb,' he says, 
6 was further typical of Christ, its great Antitype, in that 
it was to be killed in the evening, and afterwards roasted 
with fire. So Christ our passover was sacrificed for us 
in the evening of the world, only with this material 
difference, the paschal lamb was first slain, and then 
roasted ; whereas the holy Jesus, the spotless Lamb of 
God. was burnt and roasted in the fire of His Father's 
wrath before He actually expired upon the cross. To 
satisfy you of this, if you can bear to be spectators of such 
an awful tragedy, as I desired you just now to go with 
me to the entrance, so I must now entreat you to ven- 
ture a little farther into the same garden. But — stop — 
what is that we see ? Behold the Lamb of God under- 
going the most direful tortures of vindictive wrath ! Of 
the people, even of His disciples, there is none with Him. 
Alas ! was ever sorrow like unto that sorrow wherewith 
His innocent soul was afflicted in this day of His Father's 
fierce anger ? Before He entered into this bitter passion, 
out of the fulness of His heart He said, " Xow is my soul 
troubled." But how is it troubled now? His agony 
bespeaks it to be exceeding sorrowful, even unto death. 
It extorts sweat, yea. a bloody sweat. His face, His 
hands, His garments, are all over stained with blood. It 



THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 



345 



extorts strong crying and many tears. See Low the 
incarnate Deity lies prostrate before His Father, who 
now laid on Him the iniquities of us all. See how He 
agonises in prayer ! Hark ! Again and again He addresses 
His Father with an " If it be possible, let this cup pass 
from me ! " 1 

4 Tell me, ye blessed angels, tell me, Gabriel — or what- 
soever thou art called, who wast sent from heaven in 
this important hour, to strengthen our agonising Lord — 
tell me, if ye can, what Christ endured in this dark and 
doleful night ; and tell me, tell me what you yourselves 
felt when you heard this same God-man, whilst expiring 
on the accursed tree, breaking forth into that dolorous, 
unheard of expostulation, 44 My God, my God, why, or 
how hast thou forsaken me?" Were you not all struck 
dumb ? And did not an universal awful silence fill 
heaven itself when God the Father said unto His sword, 
" Sword, smite my fellow ? " Well might nature put on 
its sable weeds ; well might the rocks rend, to show 
their sympathy with a suffering Saviour ; and well might 
the sun withdraw its light, as though it was shocked and 
confounded to see its Maker suffer. But our hearts are 
harder than rocks, or otherwise they would now break ; 
and our souls more stupid than any part of the inanimate 
creation, or they would even now, in some degree, at 
least, sympathise with a crucified Eecleemer, who for us 

1 Cornelius Winter describes the power and effect with which Whitefield 
•was wont to picture the sufferings of the Son of God : he says, ' You may 
he sure from what has "been said, that when he treated upon the sufferings 
of our Saviour, it was not without great pathos. He was very ready at that 
hind of painting which frequently answered the end of real scenery. As 
though Gethsemane were within sight, he would say, stretching out his 
hand, " Look yonder ! What is that I see ? It is my agonising Lord ! " And, 
as though it were not difficult to catch the sound of the Saviour praying, 
he would exclaim, " Hark ! hark ! do you not hear ? " You may suppose 
that as this occurred frequently, the efficacy of it was destroyed ; but no ; 
though we often knew what was coming, it was as new to us as though we 
had never heard it before.' 



346 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



men, and for our salvation, was thus roasted, as it were, 
in the Father's wrath, and therefore fitly styled the 
Lamb of God.' 1 

It is to be regretted that he did not follow the glim- 
mer of light which comes through the narrow chink of 
that last sentence, 6 as it were.' And yet I know not 
that he would have had the slightest increase of moral 
and spiritual power with theological beliefs less literal, 
less objective, less gross, than those which he held. The 
rugged minds which he commonly addressed could grasp, 
as a real redemption for themselves, that their punish- 
ment had been borne by another, and that their unclean- 
ness was hidden from view by a robe of unsullied 
righteousness; and all the objections which a refined 
criticism could offer would have been nothing to them. 
Nor was it so much the theology of the sermons as the 
spirit of the preacher which won the people's ear and 
heart. Love is more than theology both with God and 
man, and that was never absent from any sermon of 
Whitefield. Consrea'ations had no time to settle down 
upon his theological mistakes, and find fault with them. 
Before the questioner had well begun to consider what 
hope of acceptance with God anyone durst cherish, if 
the atonement was only for the elect, his soul was called 

1 It may be interesting to compare with this view* of the Atonement the 
j uster view of William Law, to whom Methodism owed much. ' The God 
of Christians/ he says, ' is so far from being implacable and revengeful that 
you have seen it proved, from text to text, that the whole form and manner 
of our redemption comes wholly from the free, antecedent, infinite love and 
goodness of God towards fallen man • that the innocent Christ did not 
suffer to quiet an angry Deity, but merely as co-operating, assisting, and 
uniting with that love of God which desired our salvation ; that He did 
not suffer in our place or stead, but only on our account, which is a quite 
different matter. And to say that He suffered in our place or stead is as 
absurd, as contrary to Scripture, as to say that He rose from the dead and 
ascended into heaven in our place and stead, that we might be excused from 
it. For His sufferings, death, resurrection, and ascension are all of them 
equally on our account, for our sake, for our good and benefit, but none of 
them possible to be in our stead." — ' The Atonement,' by the Kev. William 
Law, p. 74. 



AN APPEAL TO YOUNG MEN. 



347 



to repent and believe ; for Whitefield was too wise at 
winning souls to leave his 6 application ' to the last : he 
would put an application to every paragraph rather than 
fail in getting practical results. In his sermon on 4 The 
Lord our righteousness ' he rushes straight in among 
his hearers' doubts and troubles — doubts and troubles 
which his own rebukes and pleadings have created, and 
exclaims, ' Who knows but the Lord may have mercy on, 
nay, abundantly pardon you ? Beg of God to give you 
faith ; and, if the Lord gives you that, you will by it 
receive Christ with His righteousness and His all. You 
need not fear the greatness or number of your sins. For 
are you sinners? so am I. Are you the chief of sinners? 
so am I. Are you backsliding sinners ? so am I. And 
yet the Lord — for ever adored be His rich, free, and 
sovereign grace — is my righteousness. Come then, 
young men, who, as I acted once myself, are playing 
the prodigal, and wandering away afar off from your 
heavenly Father's house, come home, come home, and 
leave your swine- trough. Feed no longer on the husks 
of sensual delights ; for Christ's sake, arise and come 
home ! Your heavenly Father now calls you. See 
yonder the best robe, even the righteousness of His clear 
Son, awaits you. See it ; view it again and again. Con- 
sider at how dear a rate it was purchased, even by the 
blood of God. Consider what great need you have of 
it. You are lost, undone, damned for ever, without it. 
Come then, poor guilty prodigals, come home. Indeed 
I will not, like the elder brother in the gospel, be angry ; 
no, I will rejoice with the angels in heaven. And 
that God would now bow the heavens, and come down ! 
Descend, Son of God, descend; and, as Thou hast 
shown in me such mercy, let Thy blessed Spirit apply 
Thy righteousness to some young prodigals now before 
Thee, and clothe their naked souls with Thy best robe ! ' 
The writing of theological letters was very rudely in- 



348 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

terrupted one day. The good ship 6 Wilmington ' was 
toiling through the Atlantic without her convoy, when, 
to the alarm of all, Whitefield included, two ships were 
sighted which the captain took to be enemies, bearing 
down on them with all the sail they could crowd. Pre- 
parations were at once made for an engagement. Guns 
were mounted ; chains were put about the masts ; the 
great cabin was emptied of everything ; hammocks were 
slung about the sides of the ship. Mrs. Whitefield dressed 
herself to be prepared for all events, and then set about 
making cartridges. All but one stood ready for fire and 
smoke. Whitefield retreated to the hold of the ship, 
when told that that was the chaplain's place. Not liking 
his quarters, however, and being urged by one of his 
New England friends to say something to animate the 
men, he crept upon deck, and beat to arms with a 
warm exhortation. His words warmed the hearts of 
braver men. On came the dreaded enemy, when, lo ! a 
nearer view showed that they were two friends, mast- 
ships, which, with the 4 Wilmington,' ought to have been 
under the protection of the missing convoy ! All were 
very much pleased. The captain, as he took the oppor- 
tunity to get the empty cabin cleared, remarked, ' After 
all, this is the best fighting ; ' and the heroic chaplain, who 
stood hard by, yielded assent to the pacific sentiment. 

The chaplain had another kind of enemy to fight with, 
and gladly betook himself to his desk and his quill, to 
write 4 Some Eemarks upon a late Charge against Enthu- 
siasm, delivered by the Eight Eeverend Father in God, 
Eichard, Lord Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, to the 
Eeverend the Clergy in the several parts of the Diocess 
of Lichfield and Coventry, in a Triennial Visitation of 
the same in 1741 ; and published at their request in the 
present year 1744. In a Letter to the Eev. the Clergy 
of that Diocess.' The position taken by the bishop is 
almost the same as that chosen by Dr. Gibson, namely, 



THE D0CTKINE OF THE HOLY SPIEIT. 



349 



there has been no Holy Ghost excepting in the times of 
the apostles and in their labours. It is an enthusiastical 
notion to think that there is any witnessing of the Spirit 
to the soul of man concerning adoption ; or that the 
Spirit is in the believer at all ; or that He affords help 
either in praying or in preaching. All pretensions to 
such favours in these last days are vain. 1 For the reality 
of these favours Whitefield contended with all his might. 
Nothing was dearer to him than that inward Witness, 
who sealed him unto the day of redemption. Nothing 
could strengthen his heart for his duties so much as 
the light and comfort and help of the Holy Spirit. He 
could best offer the rights and privileges of sonship to all 
when he was indubitably assured that he had them him- 
self. Freed from the abuse he had once made of the 
privilege of having an inner Teacher, Comforter, and 
Guide, by placing his impressions on a level with spoken 
truth, the written word of God, he held with immovable 
firmness to the position, that all believers in Christ Jesus 
have the Spirit within them to sanctify them, and sustain 
them in the fulfilment of duty. Turning round on the 
clergy, he says, 6 How can you agree with the thirteenth 
article, which affirms, " that works done before the 
grace of Christ, and the inspiration of the Spirit, are not 
pleasant to God?'" Are not all these things against you? 
Do they not all concur to prove that you are the betrayers 
of that church which you would pretend to defend? 
Alas ! what strangers must you be to a life hid with 
Christ in God, and the blessed fruits of the Spirit, such 
as love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, 
faith, meekness, temperance ; when you know of no other 

1 None can fail to be struck with the change which has come over theo- 
logical belief on this subject since Whitefield's days. Then it was enthusi- 
astical for even a few to think that they had the Spirit within them : now 
an influential school of theologians would account it blind bigotry to ques- 
tion whether the Spirit is in every one, Turk and Jew, Kaffir and Brahmin, 
Christian and Fire-worshipper, alike. 



350 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

first-fruits of the Spirit than the miraculous gifts of the 
Holy Ghost conferred on some particular persons in the 
primitive church, which a man might have so as to 
prophesy and cast out devils in the name of Christ, and 
yet be commanded to depart from Him-in the last day. 
How miserable must the congregations be of which you 
are made overseers ! And how little of the divine 
presence must you have felt in your administrations that 
utterly deny the spirit of prayer, and the Spirit's helping 
you to preach with power, and consider them as things 
that have long since ceased ! Is not this the reason why 
you preach as did the scribes, and not with any divine 
pathos and authority, and see so little good effect of your 
sermons ? Have not your principles a direct tendency to 
lull poor souls asleep ? For, if they are not to look for 
the supernatural operations of the Spirit of God, or any 
inward feeling or perceptions of this Spirit, may not all 
that are baptised, and not notoriously wicked, flatter 
themselves that they are Christians indeed ? But is not 
this the very quintessence of Pharisaism ? Is not this a 
prophesying falsely, to say unto people, " Peace, peace," 
when there is no true, solid, scriptural ground for peace ? 
And are not you then properly the persons his lordship 
speaks of as " betraying whole multitudes into an un- 
reasonable presumption of their salvation ? " For is it 
not the highest presumption for any to hope to be saved 
without the indwelling of the Spirit, since the apostle 
declares in the most awful manner, " If any man have not 
the Spirit of Christ, he is none of His ? " ' 

At the end of eleven weeks, the 4 Wilmington ' came 
within sight of port. The long confinement had made 
Whitefield impatient to land ; and, with some friends, he 
eagerly, and in spite of remonstrance, transferred himself 
from the ship to a little fishing-smack which had come 
alongside, and which, it was said, would distance the 
ship by several hours. His haste delayed him. It soon 



SEEIOUS ILLNESSES. 



351 



grew dark, the pilots missed the bar of York harbour, 
and the smack and its passengers were tossed about all 
night. Exposure increased the pain of a severe attack of 
nervous colic, from which he had been suffering for some 
time. He was also so hungry that he could almost have 
gnawed the boards of the boat, and perhaps wood might 
have done him no more harm than the raw potatoes, the 
only food on board, of which he partook freely. It 
pleased him, as he lay shivering, to hear a fisherman, in 
answer to a question about what was going on ashore, 
say that the 'New-lights ' were expecting one Mr. White- 
field, and that the day before many had been praying for 
his safe arrival. Towards morning the men found the 
inlet ; and Whiter! eld was received into the house of a 
physician, formerly a notorious Deist, but converted at 
Whitefield's last American visit. Half an hour after his 
arrival, he was put to bed, racked with nervous colic, 
convulsed from his waist to his toes, and a total con- 
vulsion was expected every moment. As his wife and 
friends stood around him, weeping, he begged them not 
to be distressed. Fearing that he might fall into a 
delirium, and say things that were wrong, he told them — 
so anxious was he never to exert a baneful influence — 
that such a thing must not surprise them. Happily the 
worst did not come, yet for four days he could not bear 
the sound of a footstep or of a voice. 

As soon as he was somewhat better, the minister of 
York, old Mr. Moody, called to bid him welcome to 
America, and then urged him to give them a sermon. He 
consented. Meanwhile, news had gone to Boston that 
he was dying ; and when it reached that city, two of his 
friends started for York, to nurse him if he were alive, 
or to attend his funeral if he were dead. On their arrival, 
they found him in the pulpit ! Soon a relapse came on, 
through his catching cold, and his friends again thought 
that his end was come ; yet while he lay in agony of 



352 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

body, his greater pain was, that he had been announced 
to preach, and could not go. The hour of service drew 
near ; the minister who had been appointed to fill his 
place was leaving the house for church, when of a 
sudden Whiten eld said to his friend and doctor, ' Doctor, 
my pains are suspended ; by the help of God, I'll go and 
preach, and then come home and die.' And he did go, pale 
as death, and looking to the astonished congregation like 
one risen from the grave. It was taken for a last sermon, 
both by people and preacher. The invisible things of 
another world lay open to his view, and expecting to be 
with his Master before morning, he spoke with peculiar 
energy for an hour. The effect of his word was, he says, 
worth dying for a thousand times over. But nature was 
hard pressed by the effort, and when, on his return home, 
he was laid on a bed before the fire, animation seemed 
to be suspended, and he could hear his friends say to each 
other, ' He is gone ! ' Gradually he recovered ; and the 
first visitor who would see him, yea or nay, was a poor 
Negro woman. Sitting on the ground beside him, and 
looking earnestly into that kind face which always wore 
its gentlest aspect when such as she approached it, she 
said in her broken English, 'Master, you just go to 
heaven's gate, but Jesus Christ said, Get you down, get 
you down, you must not come here yet ; but go first, and 
call some more poor Negroes.' The sick man prayed 
that it might be as the simple-hearted Negress wished it 
to be ; and prayer and wish were fulfilled. 

In about three weeks, though still very weak, he was 
able to proceed to Boston. Here he was convinced that 
since his departure for England a glorious work had been 
going on, both in Boston and in almost all parts of New 
England. That there had been irregularities and follies, 
an unhappy mixture of human infirmity with divine work, 
he could not but sorrowfully admit ; but good predomi- 
nated over evil. What reproach was incurred, either justly . 



MORNING LECTURES. 



353 



or unjustly, was thrown upon him ; and man}' clergy who 
had before met him at Governor Belcher's table — Belcher 
was not now in the post of governor — and ' paid him the 
nod,' were shy and distant, and refused him their pulpits. 
But the congregations had some influence, and would 
not let their recalcitrant ministers have absolute power 
over the pulpits : accordingly many of them passed 
votes of invitation to Whitefield to preach for them, and 
some urged him to set up a six o'clock morning lecture, 
such as he had established in Scotland. With this request 
he complied, and opened a lecture in one of the smallest 
rooms, thinking; that but few would attend. But how was 
he disappointed ! His first lecture, which was preached 
from the text ' And they came early in the morning to 
hear him,' was listened to by such a crowd, that for the 
future he had to use two of the largest places in the city, 
and there an audience of two or three thousand heard 
him. The streets were all astir on those dark February 
mornings with the eager punctual hearers who Avere 
going to the lectures on Genesis. Before the blinds were 
drawn in the houses of many who had thrown the taunt 
that the £ new lights ' were idle, and neglected their 
worldly duties, the saints had attended lecture, had cele- 
brated family worship, and had finished breakfast. It 
became the remark of everyone that between tar-water 
— then a popular panacea — and early rising the physi- 
cians would lose their business. 

I cannot find that his preaching in churches where the 
clergy ay ere opposed to him, or distant toAvards him, 
caused, as apparently it would have done, unhappy dif- 
ferences betAveen the clergy and their people ; indeed. I 
cannot think that Whitefield, ayIio had been witness of 
the disastrous effects of troubles among brethreu, and 
who had become an ardent adA~ocate of peace, could 
have yielded his assent to anything that might leave 
contention behind him, Doubtless his ministrations in- 

A A 



354 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



terfered very slightly, if at all, with the ordinary work 
of the local ministers, and any infringement may have 
been condoned on the ground that preachers were made 
for the people, and not the people for the preachers ; and 
if the people would hear him in the churches which 
their money had built and their liberality kept open, 
during his short visits to the city, it was stretching pro- 
fessional claims rather too far to say them 'nay.' There 
was certainly great excitement in the city, and party 
feeling ran high. Some of the clergy began to publish 
halfpenny testimonials against him, and the president, 
professors and students of Harvard College joined in the 
assaults. But they assailed a man who was too good 
not to wish to be better, and too candid to be afraid of 
confessing his faults. Their exposure of real blame on 
his part only gave him the opportunity to acknowledge 
(which he did with beautiful humility) wherein he had 
offended ; and their shameful treatment of him in other 
respects so roused many of his friends, that they came to 
him to say that they would, with his consent, build in a 
few weeks the outside of the largest place of worship in 
America for his use. He gratefully declined their offer 
as unsuited to his taste and work. 

There were strange instances of the effect of his preach- 
ing. One morning the crowd was too dense to be pene- 
trated, and he was obliged to go in at the window. 
Immediately after him came the high sheriff, who had 
been hostile to the ; new lights,' and the sight of whose 
face, as it appeared through the window, almost made 
the astonished people cry out, 4 Is Saul also among the 
prophets ? ' 

Another day his friend Mr. Prince told him that he 
should shortly be visited by a very pensive and uncom- 
mon person, one of good parts, ready wit, and lively 
imagination, who, to procure matter for tavern amuse- 
ment, had often gone to hear Whitefield preach, and then 



A SCOFFER CAUGHT. 



355 



returned to his bottle and his friends, and recounted what 
he could remember, at the same time adorning it with 
further exposition. He went once too often for his fun. 
The crowd which bore him easily into Dr. S.'s meeting- 
house, as Whitefield entered, was like a solid rock behind 
him, when he wished to return with what he thought was 
sufficient food for sport. Obliged to stay, he kept looking 
up at Whitefield and waiting for anything he could ridi- 
cule. But soon he began to feel miserable under what 
he heard ; and when he withdrew, it was to go to Mr. 
Prince and confess his sins, and his desire to ask White- 
field's pardon, only he was afraid to see him. Mr. Prince 
encouraged him to venture. He went, and Whitefield on 
opening the door for him, saw in his pale, pensive, and 
horrified countenance the story of his life. In a low 
plaintive voice he said, 4 Sir, can you forgive me? ' ' Yes, 
sir, very readily,' said Whitefield with a smile. The 
visitor thought that the tale of all his wrongdoings 
would make that impossible ; but Whitefield asked him 
to sit down, and then spoke to him such comfort as the 
gospel has provided for broken hearts. 

His popularity and wide influence were made of ser- 
vice in organising the first expedition that was sent 
against Cape Breton, although he was averse from war. 
Colonel Pepperell, one of his daily hearers, having re- 
ceived the offer of commander of the expedition, con- 
sulted Whitefield on the matter ; and Whitefield frankly 
pointed out to him what he deemed the improbability of 
success, and the consequence of victory, should it be 
gained. Pepperell assumed the command. Then Mr. 
Sherburne, one of the commissaries, another friend, came 
to say that, unless he would favour the expedition, 
4 serious people ' would be discouraged from enlisting ; 
and, further, that he must give them a motto for their 
flag. Whitefield refused ; Sherburne persisted. White- 
field at length yielded, and gave them, Nil desperandum 



356 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE "WHITE FIELD. 



Christo duce. As soon as it was known what lie had 
done, great numbers enlisted. Before the expedition 
embarked, the officers asked him to preach a sermon ; 
and, accordingly, he spiritualised for them the description 
given of the motley band around David at Adullam, at 
the same time exhorting the soldiers to behave like the 
soldiers of David, and the officers to act like David's 
worthies. And they did act bravely, and conquered. The 
news of their capture of Louisburgh gathered a great 
multitude together, and he embraced the opportunity to 
preach a thanksgiving sermon. 

Altogether, he was not well satisfied with having 
turned recruiting sergeant ; and we might have felt more 
respect for him had he adhered to his original decision, 
which was really in harmony with his opinions and 
feelings. 

The stay among his New England friends was more 
prolonged than usual. Upon the renewal of his journey - 
ings his course is not easily traced. Such glimpses of 
him, however, as we do get lend fresh charm both to him 
and his work. One day he is to be seen at a settlement 
of Delaware Indians, the converts of the devout Brainerd, 
preaching to them through an interpreter, and watching, 
with that kindly interest which the orphans at Bethesda 
knew so well, a class of fifty Indian children learning the 
Assembly's Shorter Catechism. Soon afterwards we find 
him at Philadelphia, welcomed by twenty ministers of 
the city and neighbourhood who own him as their 
spiritual father ; surrounded with enthusiastic, solemn 
congregations ; and offered by the gentlemen who had 
the management of the free temple there eight hundred 
pounds a year and liberty to travel six months in the 
year, if he would become a minister in the city, an 
offer which he treated as he had done that of the Boston 
people. We see him availing himself of his short stay in 
the city to write to his mother, and tell her, that though 



RANGING THE WOODS. 



357 



for two years she had not written to him — doubtless his 
incessant and distant wanderings helped to hinder her — 
his attachment to her was as great as ever ; and then 
come snatches of news about 4 the golden bait ' which 
' Jesus had kept him from catching at ; ' about his door 
of usefulness which opens wider and wider; about his 
wife being very weak through a miscarriage, or she 
would have enclosed a few lines in his letter ; and about 
the many mercies which he receives from God. He 
rejoiced in roaming the woods, hunting for sinners, as he 
called his work ; and next we find him among a little 
band of Christians in the backwoods of Virginia. These 
men were first gathered together in a remarkable way. 
Eelations and friends in the dear old country, Scotland, 
had got a volume of those Glasgow sermons which had 
helped to kindle the revival in the valley of the Clyde, 
and sent them across the waters. When the precious 
book was received under the shadow r of the great forest, 
its owner, one Morris, called his friends and neighbours 
to rejoice with him, and share his feast. As his own 
house was soon crowded to excess, a meeting-house had 
to be built ; and many quiet, solemn evenings w T ere spent 
in it, tears flowing from many eyes as freely as if White- 
field's pathetic voice were speaking the words that were 
only read. The sermons soon took a wider range, and 
upon invitation Morris carried them to distant little 
groups of colonists, who could not enjoy such teaching 
in the churches which by law they were expected to 
frequent. 

Yet they might not have their sermon reading without 
annoyance. They were breaking the law, said some, 
and they must say what denomination they were of, a 
question which greatly puzzled their simple minds ; but 
remembering that Luther was a rioted reformer, and that 
his books had been useful to them, they called themselves 
Lutherans. Then Blair of Fog's Manor and Tennant paid 



358 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

them a visit, to cheer and confirm them ; and at last 
came Whitefield himself, whose personal character and 
mighty works we may well believe had often been talked 
of when the reading of his sermons was over. The little 
church of Lutherans lifted up its head, like a flower 
refreshed with rain, when Whitefield came ; others also 
6 engaged themselves to the Lord.' 

Somewhere on the road, his wife, with a Boston young 
lady, left him, to travel to Georgia, and tidings come to 
him that they ' traverse the woods bravely.' Whether 
lie felt lonely without her with whom he had been ' more 
than happy ' he nowhere says ; but then he never said as 
much about his troubles as his comforts. We next come 
upon him at Bethesda, where he wintered in 1746-7. 
Most likely his letters to friends in London — the only 
letters he wrote at this time — would have contained 
news about his dear family, had not London friends 
needed counsel and comfort in the midst of troubles 
which had arisen at the Tabernacle. So he said not a 
word about his own heavy burden with the orphans, but 
added another load to all that his tender heart was 
already burdened with. Bethesda had long wished to 
see him, and as soon as he crossed its threshold, the cry 
came from London to return and succour his distressed 
flock there. What could he do but direct his people to 
One whose love was his own daily support ? 4 that 
your eyes,' he exclaims, 6 may be looking towards and 
waiting on the blessed Jesus : from Him alone can come 
your salvation : He will be better to you than a thousand 
Whitefields.' 

The same generosity which made him accessible to all 
who were in trouble made him most grateful for any 
help afforded him in carrying out his benevolent pur- 
poses. The following letter will show his kindly traits, 
and his perverted notions about slaves : — 



A GRATEFUL LETTER, 



359 



To a generous Benefactor unknown, 

1 Charles Town ; March 15, 1747. 
6 Whoever you are that delight to imitate the Divine munifi- 
cence in doing good to your fellow-creatures when they know 
not of it, I think it my duty, in behalf of the poor orphans 
committed to my care, to send you a letter of thanks for your 
kind, generous, and opportune benefaction. That God who has 
opened your heart to give so bountifully will as bountifully 
reward you. I hope you have contributed towards the pro- 
moting an institution which has, and I believe will, redound 
much to the Kedeemer's glory. Blessed be God, I hope I can 
say that Bethesda was never in better order than it is now, in 
all probability taking root downwards, and bearing fruit up- 
wards. Since my arrival there this winter I have opened a 
Latin school, and have several children of promising abilities 
that have begun to learn. One little orphan who this time 
twelvemonth could not read his letters, has made a considerable 
proficiency in his accidence. The blessed Spirit has been 
striving with several of the children's infant hearts ; and I hope 
ere long to see some ministers sent forth from that despised 
place called Georgia. It is true the constitution of that colony 
is very bad, and it is impossible for the inhabitants to subsist 
themselves without the use of slaves. But God has put it into 
the hearts of my South Carolina friends to contribute liberally 
towards purchasing a plantation and slaves in this province, 
which I purpose to devote to the support of Bethesda. Blessed 
be God, the purchase is made. I last week bought at a very 
cheap rate a. plantation of six hundred and forty acres of ground 
ready cleared, fenced and fit for rice, corn, and everything that 
will be necessary for provisions. One Negro has been given 
me. Some more I purpose to purchase this week. An over- 
seer is put upon the plantation ; and I trust a sufficient quantity 
of provision will be raised this year. 

£ The family at Bethesda consists of twenty-six. When my 
arrears are discharged I purpose to increase the number. I 
hope that time will soon come, and that He who has begun will 
go on to stir up the friends of Zion to help me, not only to 
discharge the arrears, but also to bring the plantation lately 
purchased to such perfection that, if I should die shortly, 
Bethesda may yet be provided for. 



360 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



6 As you have been such a benefactor, I thought proper to 
give you this particular account, that you may see it is not 
given in vain. I should enlarge, but have only room to sub- 
scribe myself, generous friend, 

4 Your most obedient servant, 

£ GEORGE WHITEFIELD.' 

While benefactors were thanked with exuberant grati- 
tude, detractors were quietly faced with an audited ac- 
count of receipts and disbursements in behalf of the 
orphan-house. A very serious affair was auditing in 
these days, before the introduction of limited liability 
companies. First, Whiterield and Habersham were put 
upon oath that the accounts laid before the bailiffs con- 
tained, to the best of their knowledge, a just and true 
account of 4 all monies collected by, or given to them, or 
any other, for the use and benefit of the said house ; and 
that the disbursement had been faithfully applied to and 
for the use of the same.' Then comes the statement of 
the auditors, given upon oath : — 

8 Savannah in Georgia. 

' This day personally appeared before us Henry Parker and 
William Spencer, bailiffs of Savannah aforesaid, William Wood- 
rooffe, William Ewen, and William Russell of Savannah afore- 
said, who being duly sworn say, That they have carefully and 
strictly examined all and singular the accompts relating to the 
orphan-house in Georgia, contained in forty-one pages, in a 
book entitled, " Receipts and Disbursements for the orphan- 
house in Georgia," with the original bills, receipts, and other 
vouchers, from the fifteenth day of December, in the year of 
our Lord one thousand seven hundred and thirty-eight, to the 
first of January? in the year of our Lord one thousand seven 
hundred and forty-five ; and that the monies received on ac- 
count of the said orphan-house amounted to the sum of four 
thousand nine hundred eighty-two pounds, twelve shillings 
and eight pence sterling, as above ; and that it doth not appear 
that the Reverend Mr. Whiterield hath converted any part 



A FOREST CONGREGATION. 



361 



thereof to his own private use and property, or charged the said 
house with any of his travelling, or other private expenses ; 
but, on the contrary, hath contributed to the said house many 
valuable benefactions ; and that the monies disbursed on ac- 
count of the said house amounted to the sum of five thousand 
five hundred eleven pounds, seventeen shillings and ninepence 
farthing sterling, as above, which we, in justice to the Eeverend 
Mr. Whitefield and the managers of the said house, do hereby 
declare appear to us to be faithfully and justly applied to and 
for the use and benefit of the said house only. 

4 William Woodrooffe. 

'William Ewen. 

'William Eussell. 

4 Sworn this 16th day of April, 1746, before us, bailiffs of 
Savannah ; in justification whereof we have hereunto fixed our 
hands and the common seal. 

6 Henry Parker. 
fi William Spencer.' 

The return of spring saw him mounted for another 
excursion. The news of his coming spread from settle- 
ment to settlement ; and when the early light of the 
fresh spring mornings flushed the sky, farmers and 
planters bestirred themselves, and prepared for a ride to 
the distant preaching place. Many a lonely forest-path 
and highway, striped with shadows of tall trees and 
bands of sunshine, was enlivened by groups of horsemen 
and solitary riders — some of them men of staunch piety, 
who longed after religious stimulus and instruction, and 
were going to the open glade as devoutly as ever David 
went up to Mount Zion ; others of them men of heavy 
heart and sacl countenance, who were getting their first 
insight into themselves and the mysteries, of religion, and 
were uneasy as they saw the vision ; and others again 
men of thoughtless spirit and easy life, who supposed 
that religion might very well be left to a more serious 
time than joyous days of health and vigour when the 
blood is warm, but who had a fancy to hear the far-famed 



362 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



preacher ; nor were wives and daughters absent from the 
bands of travellers. As they tied their neighing horses 
to the trees and hedges, and formed themselves into a 
great congregation, few sights could be either more 
picturesque or more impressive. All hearts were more 
or less accessible to the glowing eloquence of the evan- 
gelist, who pleaded before them, with tears and urgent 
words, the claims of his gracious and exalted Master on 
the trust and love of every soul of man. Holy thoughts 
were carried back home by many of the worldly as well 
as by many of the devout ; and the plantation and farm 
began to give signs that a God-fearing man lived in the 
principal house on it. 

But the evangelist's health soon began to suffer when 
the cool spring changed to sultry summer. American 
summers always exhausted him, and that of 1747 formed 
no exception. By the middle of May the heat was try- 
ing his 6 wasting tabernacle,' but, he says, 4 through Christ 
strengthening me, I intend persisting till I drop.' The 
condition of the southern colonies was so destitute, and 
his sense of the love of our Lord so vivid, that he carried 
out his purpose, and in five weeks made a circuit of five 
hundred miles ; but by that time fever was consuming 
him, convulsions shaking him, and nervous colic and 
gravel griping him. Still his resolution was unbroken, 
and he says, ' I am sick and well, as I used to be in 
England ; but the Eedeemer fills me with comfort, and 
gives me to rejoice in His salvation day by day. I am 
determined in His strength to die fighting, and to go on 
till I drop ! He is a Jesus worth dying for !' Three days 
afterwards he was compelled to yield a little. 4 With 
great regret,' he says, 4 1 have omitted preaching one 
night, to oblige my friends, and purpose doing so once 
more, that they may not charge me with murdering 
myself ; but I hope yet to die in the pulpit, or soon 
after I come out of it ! Hying is exceeding pleasant to 



JOHN CENNICK. 



363 



me.' At length that which he dreaded came upon him ; 
he could not preach. His chief solace was gone. It is 
with an infinite pathos that the burdened, harassed, per- 
secuted man writes—' 'Tis hard to be silent ; but I must 
be tried every way.' Compelled to hold his peace, he 
made his way as far north as New York, and there again 
resumed his beloved work. To follow him from this 
point would simply be to recount, with an alteration of 
the name of places, the experience of alternate sickness 
and partial recovery, of preaching and its pleasure, which 
has just been before us. 

His attention had to be given to things in London, 
though his heart had become so united to America that 
he sometimes thought he should never again leave it. 
Cennick, who had quarrelled with Howel Harris, the 
chief manager of the Tabernacle., during Whiten" elds 
absence, had gone over to the Moravians. Whitefield's 
letter to him upon that step is highly creditable both to 
his charity and good sense : he says — 4 1 am sorry to 
hear there are yet disputings amongst us about brick 
walls. I was in hopes, after our contests of that kind 
about seven years ago, such a scene would never occur 
again ; but I find fresh offences must come, to search out 
and discover to us fresh corruptions, to try our faith, 
teach us to cease from man, and to lean more upon Him 
who by His infinite wisdom and power will cause that 
" out of the eater shall come forth meat, and from the 
strong sweetness." I am glad you find yourself happy 
in the holy Jesus. I wish thee an increase of such dear- 
bought happiness every day, and pray that thy mouth 
may not be stopped, as others have been before thee, 
from publishing the glad tidings of salvation by a cruci- 
fied Redeemer. It has been my meat and drink to 
preach among poor sinners the unsearchable riches of 
Christ. May'st thou continue and abide in this plan, and 
whether I see thee or not, whether thou dost think of or 



364 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



write to me any more, I wish thee much success, and 
shall always pray that the work of the Lord may prosper 
in thy hands.' 

It is pleasant to know that old divisions were being 
healed, if, unfortunately, new ones were breaking out. 
The letter just quoted from, and others presently to be 
referred to, amply sustain the generous eulogy of his 
friend Charles W esley : — 

' When Satan strove the brethren to divide, 
And turn their zeal to — " Who is on my side ? " 
One moment warmed with controversial fire, 
He felt the spark as suddenly expire ; 
He felt revived the pure ethereal flame, 
The love for all that bowed to Jesus' name, 
Nor ever more would for opinions fight 
With men whose life, like his, was in the right. 
Though long by following multitudes admired, 
No party for himself he e'er desired ; 
His one desire to make the Saviour known, 
To magnify the name of Christ alone : 
If others' strove who should the greatest be, 
No lover of pre-eminence was he, 
Nor envied those his Lord vouchsafed to bless, 
But joyed in theirs as in his own success, 
His friends in honour to himself preferred ; 
And least of all in his own eyes appeared.' 

On September 11, 1747, he wrote to John Wesley, 
and said : — 

£ Not long ago I received your kind letter, dated in February 
last. Your others, I believe, came to hand, and I hope ere 
now you have received my answer. My heart is really for an 
outward as well as an inward union. Nothing shall be wanting 
on my part to bring it about ; but I cannot see how it can 
possibly be effected till we all think and speak the same 
things. I rejoice to hear that you and your brother are more 
moderate with respect to sinless perfection. Time and expe- 
rience, I believe, will convince you that attaining such a state 



REPROBATION PRACTICALLY RELINQUISHED. 365 

in this life is not a doctrine of the everlasting gospel. As for 
universal redemption, if we omit on each side the talking for 
or against reprobation, which we may do fairly, and agree as 
we already do in giving an universal offer to all poor sinners 
that will come and taste the water of life, I think we may 
manage very well.' 

The same day he wrote a shorter but perhaps still 
warmer letter to Charles : he says : — 

4 Both your letters and your prayers I trust have reached me. 
May mine reach you also, and then it will not be long ere we 
shall indeed be one fold under one Shepherd. However, if this 
should not be on earth, it will certainly be effected in heaven. 
Thither I trust we are hastening apace. Blessed be Grod that 
you are kept alive, and that your spiritual children are in- 
creasing. May they increase more and more ! Jesus can 
maintain them all. He wills that His house should be full. 
Some have wrote me things to your disadvantage. I do not 
believe them. Love thinks no evil of a friend. Such are 
you to me. I love you most dearly. I could write to you 
much more, but time and business will not permit. You will 
see my letter to your dear brother. That you may be guided 
into all truth, turn thousands and tens of thousands more unto 
righteousness, and shine as the stars in the future world for 
ever and ever, is the hearty prayer of, 

4 Very dear sir, yours most affectionately, &c. 

4 (xEOEGE WHITEFIELD.' 

At the end of his summer's labours he turned his face 
again to Bethesda. A little riding tired him, but still he 
felt that near as he had been to the kingdom of heaven, 
some of his friends had prayed him back again into the 
world. His heart was all gratitude for the success of his 
word : 4 the barren wilderness,' he says, ' was made to 
smile all the way.' What he did during the winter of 
1747-8, whether he went about Georgia preaching to 
little companies, as in the days when he first entered the 
colony, at the same time watching the affairs of the 



366 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



orphan-house, or rested to recruit himself, cannot be told. 
It is certain that in the spring following he was much 
weighed down with travelling, with care, and with his 
orphan-house debts — was in fact in such poor health that 
his friends advised him to try the air of Bermudas — 

6 That happy island where huge lemons grow, 
And orange-trees, which golden fruit do bear, 
Th' Hesperian garden boasts of none so fair ; 
Where shining pearl, coral, and many a pound, 
On the rich shore, of ambergris is found. 
So sweet the air, so moderate the clime, 
None sickly lives, or dies before the time.' 

Were we to judge of the clime of the Summer Islands 
by Whitefield's labours in them, Waller's praise might be 
taken for literal truth ; but Whitefield was an energetic 
invalid. The diary of his two months' stay on the island 
is an agreeable renewal of that journal which he unfor- 
tunately ceased too soon to write. Its only remarkable 
difference from his general run of narrative is the half- 
amused way in which he records the wonder of the great 
men at his preaching without notes. A clergyman in- 
valid who could preach twice a day, and travel consider- 
able distances, was a great marvel, but a clergyman who 
used no ' minutes ' in the pulpit was a greater. There 
was only one greater degree of marvel possible, and 
that would have been a clergyman preaching from notes 
to Kingswood colliers on Hannam Mount, to London 
rabble at Moorfielcls fair, to thirty thousand Scotchmen 
who were full of anxiety about their salvation, and 
holding them in rapt attention. 

The following is the journal, somewhat abridged : — 

e The simplicity and plainness of the people, together with 
the pleasant situation of the island, much delighted me. The 
Eev. Mr. Holiday, minister of Spanish Point, received me in a 
most affectionate and Christian manner, and begged I would 



JOURNAL IN BERMUDAS. 



367 



make his house my home. In the evening I expounded at the 
house of Mr. Savage, of Port Royal, which was very commo- 
dious, and which also he would have me make my home. I 

went with Mr. Savage, in a boat lent us by Captain , to 

the town of St. George, in order to pay our respects to the 
Governor. All along we had a most pleasant prospect of the 
other part of the island. One Mrs. Smith, of St. George's, 
for whom I had a letter of recommendation from my dear 
old friend, Mr. Smith, of Charles Town, received me into her 
house. About noon, with one of the Council and Mr. Savage, 
I waited upon the Governor. He received us courteously, and 
invited us to dine with him and. the council at a tavern. We 
accepted the invitation, and all behaved with great civility 
and respect. After the Governor rose from table, he desired, 
if I stayed in town on the Sunday, that I would dine with him 
at his own house. 

6 Sunday, March 20. — Eead prayers and preached twice this 
day, to what were esteemed here large auditories — in the 
morning at Spanish Point Church, and in the evening at 
Brackishpond Church, about two miles distant from each other. 
In the afternoon I spoke with greater freedom than in the 
morning, and I trust not altogether in vain. All were atten- 
tive ; some wept. I dined with Colonel Butterfield, one of the 
council, and received several invitations to other gentlemen's 
houses. May God bless and reward them, and incline them to 
open their heart to receive the Lord Jesus ! Amen, and Amen ! 

'Wednesday, March 23. — Dined with Captain Gibbs, and 
went from thence and expounded at the house of Captain F — le, 
at Hunbay, about two miles distant. The company was here 
also large, attentive, and affected. Our Lord gave me utterance ; 
I expounded on the first part of the eighth chapter of Jeremiah. 
After lecture, Mr. Riddle, a counsellor, invited me to his house, 
as did Mr. Paul, an aged Presbyterian minister, to his pulpit ; 
which I complied with upon condition the report was true that 
the Governor had served the ministers with an injunction that 
I should not preach in the churches. 

4 Sunday, March 27. — Glory be to God ! I hope this has been 
a profitable Sabbath to many souls ; it has been a pleasant one 
to mine. Both morning and afternoon I preached to a large 
auditory for Bermudas, in Mr. Paul's meeting-house, which, I 



368 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WII1TEFIELD. 



suppose, contains above four hundred. Abundance of Negroes, 
and many others, were in the vestry, porch, and about the 
house. The word seemed to be clothed with a convincing 
power, and to make its way into the hearts of the hearers. 
Between sermons I was entertained very civilly in a neigh- 
bouring house ; Judge Bascome and three more of the council 
came thither ; each gave me an invitation to his house. 
how does the Lord make way for a poor stranger in a strange 
land ! After the second sermon I dined with Mr. Paul ; and, 
in the evening, expounded to a very large company at Counsellor 
Eiddle's. My body was somewhat weak, but the Lord carried 
me through, and caused me to go to rest rejoicing. May I 
thus go to my grave, when my ceaseless, uninterrupted rest 
shall begin. 

6 Thursday, March 31. — Dined on Tuesday at Colonel Cor- 
busier's, and on Wednesday at Colonel Gilbert's, both of the 
council, and found by what I could hear that some good had 
been done, and many prejudices removed. Who shall hinder, 
if Grod will work ? Went to an island this afternoon called 
Ireland, upon which live a few families ; and, to my surprise, 
found a great many gentlemen and other people, with my friend, 
Mr. Holiday, who came from different parts to hear me. Before 
I began preaching I went round to see a most remarkable cave, 
which very much displayed the exquisite workmanship of Him 
who in His strength setteth fast the mountains, and is girded 
about with power. Whilst I was in the cave, quite unex- 
pectedly, I turned and saw Counsellor Riddle, who with his son 
came to hear me ; and whilst we were in the boat, told me 
that he had been with the Governor, who declared he had no 
personal prejudice against me, and wondered I did not come to 
town and preach there, for it was the desire of the people ; and 
that any house in the town, the court-house not excepted, should 
be at my service. Thanks be to God for so much favour ! If 
His cause requires it I shall have more. He knows my heart ; 
I value the favour of man no further than as it makes room 
for the gospel, and gives me a larger scope to promote the 
glory of Grod. There being no capacious house upon the island, 
I preached for the first time in the open air ; all heard very 
attentively, and it was very pleasant after sermon to see so 
many boats full of people returning from the worship of Grod. 



JOURNAL IN BERMUDAS. 



369 



I talked seriously to some in our own boat, and began to sing 
a psalm, in which they readily joined. 

4 Wednesday, April 6. — Preached yesterday at the house of 
Mr. Anthony Smith, of Bay lis Bay, with a considerable degree 
of warmth, and rode afterwards to St. Greorge's, the only town 
on the island. The gentlemen of the town had sent me an 
invitation by Judge Bascome, and he with several others came 
to visit me at my lodgings, and informed me that the Grovernor 
desired to see me! About ten I waited upon his Excellency, who 
received me with great civility, and told me he had no objec- 
tion against my person or my principles, having never yet heard 
me, and he knew nothing in respect to my conduct in moral 
life that might prejudice him against me ; but his instructions 
were to let none preach in the island, unless he had a written 
licence to preach somewhere in America or the West Indies ; 
at the same time he acknowledged it was but a matter of mere 
form. I informed his Excellency that I had been regularly 
inducted to the parish of Savannah ; that I was ordained 
priest by letters dimissory from my lord of London, and under 
no Church censure from his lordship ; and would always read 
the Church prayers, if the clergy would give me the use of 
their churches. I added further, that a minister's pulpit was 
looked upon as his freehold, and that I knew one clergyman 
who had denied his own diocesan the use of his pulpit. But I 
told his Excellency I was satisfied with the liberty he allowed 
me, and would not act contrary to his injunction. I then 
begged leave to be dismissed, because I was to preach at eleven 
o'clock. His Excellency said he intended to do himself the 
pleasure to hear me. At eleven the church bell rung, the 
church bible, prayer-book, and cushion were sent to the town- 
house. The Grovernor, several of the Council, the minister 
of the parish, and Assembly men, with a great number of 
townspeople assembled in great order. I was very sick, through 
a cold I catched last night ; but I read the Church prayers — 
the first lesson was 1 Samuel xv. — and preached on these 
words, 44 Kighteousness exalteth a nation." Being weak and 
faint, and having much of the headache, I did not do that 
justice to my subject as I sometimes am enabled to do ; but 
the Lord so helped me, that, as I found afterwards, the Gro- 
vernor and the other gentlemen expressed their approbation, 

B B 



370 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



and acknowledged they did not expect to be so well enter- 
tained. Not unto me, Lord, not unto me, but unto Thy 
free grace be all the glory ! 1 

£ After sermon, Dr. F bs and Mr. P 1, the collector, 

came to me, and desired me to favour them and the gentlemen 
of the town with my company to dine with them. I accepted 
the invitation. The Governor, and the President, and Judge 
Bascome were there. All wondered at my speaking so freely 
and fluently without notes. The Governor asked me whether 
I used minutes ; I answered, No. He said it was a great gift. 
At table his Excellency introduced something of religion by 
asking me the meaning of the word Hades. Several other 
things were started, about free-will, Adam's fall, predestination, 
&c, to all which God enabled me to answer so pertinently, 
and taught me to mix the utile and dulce so together, that 
all at table seemed highly pleased, shook me by the hand, 
and invited me to their respective houses. The Governor, in 
particular, asked me to dine with him on the morrow ; and 

Dr. F b, one of his particular intimates, invited me to 

drink tea in the afternoon. I thanked all, returned proper 
respects, and went . to my lodgings with some degree of thank- 
fulness for the assistance vouchsafed me, and abased before 
God at the consideration of my own unworthiness. In the 
afternoon, about five o'clock, I expounded the parable of the 
prodigal son to many people at a private house ; and, in the 
evening, had liberty to speak freely and closely to those that 
supped with me. that this may be the beginning of good 
gospel times to the inhabitants of this town ! Lord, teach me 
to deal prudently with them, and cause them to melt under 
Thy word. 

4 Friday, April 8. — Preached yesterday with great clearness 
and freedom to about fourscore people at a house on David's 
island, over against St. George's Town ; went and lay at Mr. 
Holiday's, who came in a boat to fetch me ; and this day I 
heard him preach and read prayers, after which I took the 
sacrament from him. Honest man, he would have had me 
administer and officiate ; but I chose not to do it, lest I should 

1 This is the only instance I remember of Whitefield's saying anything 
about the quality of his sermons. His mind was always concerned about 
the power with which they were preached, and the good they did. 



JOURNAL IN BERMUDAS. 



371 



bring him into trouble after my departure. However, in the 
afternoon, I preached at one Mr. Tod's, in the same parish, to 
a very large company indeed. The Lord was with me. My 
heart was warm ; and what went from the heart, I trust went 
to the heart, for many were affected. that they may be 
converted also ! Then will it be a Grood Friday indeed to their 
souls. 

4 Sunday, May 1. — This morning was a little sick, but I 
trust Grod gave us a happy beginning of the new month. I 
preached twice with power, especially in the morning, to a 
very great congregation in the meeting-house ; and in the 
evening, having given previous notice, I preached about four 
miles distant, in the fields, to a large company of Negroes, and 
a number of white people who came to hear what I had to say 
to them. I believe in all there were near fifteen hundred 
people. As the sermon was intended for the Negroes, I gave 
the auditory warning that my discourse would be chiefly 
directed to them, and that I should endeavour to imitate the 
example of Elijah, who, when he was about to raise the child, 
contracted himself to its length. The Negroes seemed very 
sensible and attentive. When I asked them whether all of 
them did not desire to go to heaven? one of them, with a very 
audible voice, said, " Yes, sir." This caused a little smiling, 
but, in general, everything was carried on with great decency ; 
and I believe the Lord enabled me so to discourse as to touch 
the Negroes, and yet not to give them the least umbrage to 
slight or behave imperiously to their masters. If ever a 
minister in preaching need the wisdom of the serpent to be 
joined with the harmlessness of the dove, it must be when dis- 
coursing to Negroes. Vouchsafe me this favour, Grod, for 
Thy dear Son's sake ! 

4 Monday, May 2. — Upon inquiry I found that some of the 
Negroes did not like my preaching, because I told them of 
their cursing, swearing, thieving, and lying. One or two of 
the worst of them, as I was informed, went away. Some said 

they would not go any more ; they liked Mr. M r better, 

for he never told them of these things ; and I said their 
hearts were as black as their faces. They expected, they said, 
to hear me speak against their masters. Blessed be Grod that 
I was directed not to say anything this first time to the 



372 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

masters at all, though my text led to it. It might have been 
of bad consequence to tell them their duty, or charge them 
too roundly with the neglect of it, before their slaves. They 
would mind all I said to their masters, and, perhaps, nothing 
that I said to them. Everything is beautiful in its season. 
Lord, teach me always that due season, wherever I am called, 
to give either black or white a portion of Thy word! However, 
others of the poor creatures, I hear, were very thankful, and 
came home to their masters' houses, saying that they would 
strive to sin no more. Poor hearts ! These different accoimts 
affected me ; and, upon the whole, I could not help rejoicing 
to find that their consciences were so far awake. 

6 Saturday, May 7. — In my conversation these two days with 
some of my friends, I was much diverted in hearing several 
things that passed among the poor Negroes since my preaching 
to them last Sunday. One of the women, it seems, said, " that 
if the book I preached out of was the best book that ever was 
bought at and came out of London, she was sure it never had all 
in it which I spoke to the Negroes." The old man who spoke out 
loud last Sunday, and said " Yes," when I asked them whether 
all the Negroes would not go to heaven, being questioned by 
somebody why he spoke out so, answered, " That the gentle- 
man put the question once or twice to them, and the other 
fools had not the manners to make me any answer, till, at last, 
I seemed to point to him, and he was ashamed that nobody 
should answer me, and therefore he did." Another, wondering 
why I said, " Negroes had black hearts," was answered by his 
black brother thus — " Ah, thou fool, dost thou not understand 
it ? He means black with sin." Two more, girls, were over- 
heard by their mistress talking about religion, and they said, 
" They knew if they did not repent, they must be damned." 
From all which I infer, that these Bermudas Negroes are 
more knowing than I supposed : that their consciences are 
awake and consequently prepared, in a good measure, for hear- 
ing the gospel preached unto them. 

4 Sunday, May 1 5. — Praise the Lord, my soul, and all that 
is within thee praise His holy name ! This morning I preached 
my farewell sermon at Mr. Paul's meeting-house ; it was quite 
full, and, as the President said, above one hundred and fifty 
whites, besides blacks, were round the house. Attention sat 



JOURNAL IN BERMUDAS. 



on every face ; and when I came to take my leave, oh ! what a 
sweet unaffected weeping was there to be seen everywhere. I 
believe there were few dry eyes. The Negroes without doors, 
I heard, wept plentifully. My own heart was affected ; and 
though I have parted from friends so often, yet I find every 
fresh parting almost unmans me, and very much affects my 
heart. Surely a great work is begun in some souls at Bermudas. 
Carry it on, Lord ; and if it be Thy will, send me to this 
dear people again ! Even so, Lord Jesus. Amen. 

6 Sunday, May 22. — Blessed be God, the little leaven thrown 
into the three measures of meal begins to ferment and work 
almost every day for the week past. I have conversed with 
souls loaded with a sense of their sins, and, as far as I can 
judge, really pricked to the heart. I preached only three 
times, but to almost three times larger auditories than usual. 
Indeed, the fields are white, ready unto harvest. God has 
been pleased to bless private visits. Go where I will, upon 
the least notice, houses are crowded, and the poor souls that 
follow are soon drenched in tears. This day I took, as it 
were, another farewell. As the ship did not sail, I preached 
at Somerset in the morning, to a large congregation in the 
fields, and expounded in the evening to as large a one at Mr. 
Harvey's house, round which stood many hundreds of people. 
But in the morning and the evening how did the poor souls 
weep ! The Lord seemed to be with me in a peculiar manner ; 
and though I was ready to die with heat and straining, yet I 
was enabled to speak louder and with greater power, I think, 
than I have been before. Gifts and grace, especially in the 
evening, were both in exercise. After the service, when I lay 
down on the bed to rest, many came weeping bitterly around 
me, and took their last farewell. Though my body was very 
weak, yet my soul was full of comfort. It magnified the Lord, 
and my spirit rejoiced in God my Saviour. Abundance of 
prayers and blessings were put up for my safe passage to 
England, and speedy return to Bermudas again. May they 
enter into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth ! For, God willing, 
I intend visiting these dear people once more. In the mean- 
while, with all humility and thankfulness of heart, will I here, 
Lord, set up my Ebenezer ; for hitherto surely Thou hast 
helped me ! I cannot help thinking that I was led to this 



374 LIFE AND TKAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



island by a peculiar Providence. My dear friend, Mr. Smith 
of Charles Town, has been made especially instrumental thereto. 
Thanks be to the Lord for sending me hither. I have been re- 
ceived in a manner which I dared not expect, and have met 
with little, very little, opposition indeed. The inhabitants 
seem to be plain and open-hearted. They have also been 
open-handed. For they have loaded me with provisions for 
my sea store ; and in the several parishes, by a large voluntary 
contribution, have raised me upwards of a hundred pounds 
sterling. This will pay a little of Bethesda's debt, and enable 
me to make such a remittance to my dear yoke-fellow, as may 
keep her from being embarrassed, or too much beholden in my 
absence. Blessed be Grod for bringing me out of my embar- 
rassments by degrees ! May the Lord reward all my bene- 
factors a thousandfold ! I hear that what was given was given 
exceeding heartily, and people only lamented they could do no 
more.' 

The voyage home was not to be without alarms, though 
it proved, on the whole, both rapid and pleasant. Those 
dreadful men-of-war were hanging about like hungry 
sharks ; on the first clay of the voyage one of them gave 
chase ; and when the 4 Betsy ' approached the English 
Channel, where they swarmed, 4 a large French vessel 
shot twice at, and bore down upon us. We gave up all 
for gone.' But some pang of compassion or panic of 
fear seized the Frenchman, and he turned about, and left 
his trembling prey unhurt. 

Whitefield might not preach during this voyage, be- 
cause his health was so impaired. He says, 4 This may 
spare my lungs, but it grieves my heart. I long to be 
ashore, if it was for no other reason. Besides, I can do 
but little in respect to my writing. You may guess how 
it is when we have four gentlewomen in the cabin ! ' How- 
ever, he did write, and finished his abridgement of 
Law's 4 Serious Call,' which he endeavoured to 4 gospelise.' 
His journals, too, were revised ; and in reference to that 
work, he makes some remarks which will illustrate his 



MISTAKES CONFESSED. 



375 



ingenuousness of temper. The revision had brought 
under his notice many things that his maturer judgment, 
and calmer, though not less earnest, spirit could not but 
disapprove of. 4 Alas ! alas ! ' he says, 4 in how many 
things have I judged and acted wrong. I have been too 
rash and hasty in giving characters, both of places and 
persons. Being fond of Scripture language, I have often 
used a style too Apostolical, and at the same time I have 
been too bitter in my zeal. Wild fire has been mixed 
with it ; and I find that I frequently wrote and spoke in 
my own spirit, when I thought I was writing and speak- 
ing by the assistance of the Spirit of God. I have like- 
wise too much made inward impressions my rule of 
acting, and too soon and too explicitly published what 
had been better kept in longer, or told after my death. 
By these things I have given some wrong touches to 
God's ark, and hurt the blessed cause I would defend, 
and also stirred up endless opposition. This has humbled 
me much since I have been on board, and made me 
think of a saying of Mr. Henry's, "Joseph had more 
honesty than he had policy, or he never would have told 
his dreams." At the same time, I cannot but bless and 
praise and magnify that good and gracious God. who 
filled me with so much of His holy fire, and carried me, 
a poor w^eak youth, through such a torrent both of popu- 
larity and contempt, and set so many seals to my un- 
worthy ministrations. I bless Him for ripening my 
judgment a little more, for giving me to see and confess, 
and I hope in some degree to correct and amend, some 
of my mistakes. I thank God for giving me grace to 
embark in such a blessed cause, and pray Him to give me 
strength to hold on and increase in zeal and love to the 
end.' 

He had been made to prove the truth of one of his 
wise remarks, 4 God always makes use of strong passions 
for a great work.' Strong passions have great dangers ; 



376 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

but he was now beginning to understand how to rule 
them with a stern hand. Less robust in health than 
when he last returned from America, and less disposed to 
contend with those who differed from him, but not a whit 
less zealous or self-sacrificing, only showing the first tints 
of mellow ripeness in all goodness, he stepped again upon 
English soil on July 6, 1748. 



377 



CHAPTEE XL 
July, 1748-1752. 

APPOINTED CHAPLAIN TO THE COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON A SLAVE 

OWNER. 

The English newspapers, Whitefield learned on his arrival 
in England, had interred him as early as April in that 
year. From the people he found a welcome the very 
reverse of that which had pained him seven years before. 
Thousands received him with a joy that almost overcame 
both him and them. Their love and devotion to him 
humbled him to the dust. The damaged fortunes of the 
Tabernacle instantly revived, when he resumed the pulpit 
and the management of affairs. One church also, St. 
Bartholomew's, was open to him ; and there he preached 
to immense congregations, and assisted in administering 
the sacrament to a thousand communicants. Moorfields 
was as white as ever to the harvest. 

Many tender memories were awakened by the return 
home ; and his affectionate heart yearned towards his family 
and his friends. Though his mother had remained silent 
during all his long absence, and he had vainly entreated a 
letter from her, one of his first acts was to remember her, 
and announce by a letter his arrival. A kindly greeting 
was sent to Wesley. Hervey, one of Whitefield's con- 
verts, the author of 4 Meditations among the Tombs,' was 
complimented on his appearance as an author, and en- 
couraged to persevere, because his writings were so 
adapted to the taste of the polite world. Times have 
greatly changed since then, and taste too. Thus he tried 
to keep his place in hearts that had once received him. 



378 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 

An unexpected call was made upon him on the occa- 
sion of this return. Howel Harris had instructions to 
take him, as soon as he landed, to the house of the 
Countess of Huntingdon, at Chelsea. That remarkable 
woman was already well acquainted with the power of 
his oratory over popular assemblies, for she had often 
seen and felt it ; now she wanted to see what it could 
avail in her drawing-room upon the hearts of high-born 
ladies and gentlemen. I cannot say what kind of an 
audience he had when he preached in her house the first 
two times, but after the second service, the Countess 
wrote to inform him that several of the nobility wished 
to hear him, if he would come again. In a few days a 
brilliant circle was gathered around him ; and he spoke 
to them with all his usual unaffected earnestness and 
natural gracefulness, while they listened with attention 
and some degree of emotion. The Earl of Chesterfield 
thanked him and paid him one of his studied, high- 
mannered compliments at the close : ' Sir,' he said, ' I will 
not tell you what I shall tell others, how I approve of 
you.' Bolingbroke was afterwards prevailed upon to 
come ; 4 he sat like an archbishop ; ' and at the conclusion 
condescended to assure Whitefield that he had done 
great justice to the Divine attributes in his discourse. 
Hume, also, became an admirer of this eloquence, which 
had a charm for colliers and peers ; in his opinion White- 
field was the most ingenious preacher he had ever heard ; 
it was worth going twenty miles to hear him. He gives 
a remarkable instance of the effect with which Whitefield 
once employed apostrophe, not, of course, in the drawing- 
room at Chelsea. ' Once, after a solemn pause, he thus 
addressed his audience: — "The attendant angel is just 
about to leave the threshold of this sanctuary, and ascend 
to heaven. And shall he ascend, and not bear with him 
the news of one sinner, among all this multitude, re- 
claimed from the error of his way?" To give the greater 



CHAPLAIX TO THE COUXTESS OF HUNTINGDON. 379 



effect to this exclamation, Whitefield stamped with his 
foot, lifted up his hands and eyes to heaven, and cried 
aloud, ;i Stop, Gabriel, stop, ere you enter the sacred 
portals, and yet carry with you the news of one sinner 
converted to God." This address was accompanied with 
such animated, yet natural, action, that it surpassed any- 
thing I ever saw or heard in any other preacher.' 

Within a fortnight, the Countess added his name to 
the number of her chaplains, of whom Eomaine was the 
first. 1 

This work among the nobility will shortly demand 
attention again ; and in the meantime, we notice, in few 
words, that, besides a flying visit to Wales this autumn, 
he paid a third visit to Scotland ; where he had to mourn 
the death of many of his foremost friends, and endure 
the usual ecclesiastical torment about church government. 
Two Synods — Glasgow and Perth — and a Presbytery — 
Edinburgh — wrangled, or as they thought, had a holy 
contending, about him, whether ministers should be pro- 
hibited or discouraged from employing him. 4 The more 
I was blackened, 5 he says, ' the more the Eecleemer com- 
forted me.' At Glasgow, common sense and Christian 
feeling triumphed by a majority of fourteen out of forty. 

The hearts of the multitude responded to him as be- 
fore ; and his visit gave him great cause for joy and 
thankfulness. 

One symptom began to show itself on his return, 
which was premonitory of sad mischief. When he 
went into Scotland, and began to preach, he suffered 

1 The foreign element was conspicuous among the principal men of the 
Methodist movement. Eomaine's father was a French refugee, who sought 
the protection of this country after the revocation of the edict of Xantes ; 
Cennick was perhaps of Bohemian extraction : and Fletcher, saintliest of 
men, was a Swiss. Doddridge also, among the Dissenters, was the grand- 
son, on his mother's side, of the Rev. John Beauman, who fled from Prague 
in 162G, on account of religious troubles into which Bohemia was thrown 
by the expulsion of Frederick, Elector Palatine. 



380 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 



from a very severe hoarseness ; and when he reached 
Topcliff, on his way back, he wrote to a friend, 4 Though 
I do not preach, yet I hope I am preparing for it. 
Eeading, prayer, and meditation are three necessary 
ingredients. Eiding, and getting proper rest have re- 
cruited me ; but I am apt to believe that I have strained 
myself inwardly. I feel sensible pain in my breath. 
But no matter ; it is for a good Master, who bore inex- 
pressible pain for me.' That pain was to become a 
grievous burden through many years of incredible labour. 
It was too late now to take the prudential measures 
which he felt were necessary even before he started for 
Scotland. 

As soon as he reached London, November 10, Lady 
Huntingdon came to town, and made arrangements for 
him to preach in her house to 4 the great and noble.' 
As her name and his become inseparably associated from 
this time forward to the end of his life, it is time to 
indicate her religious position. Lady Selina Shirley was 
born on August 24, 1707 — seven years before Whitefield 
— and was married to Theophilus, ninth Earl of Hunting- 
don, on June 3, 1728. She entered heartily into the 
pleasures and duties of her high station, was often at 
court, took a lively interest in politics, and cared for the 
poor on her husband's estate. She determined to win 
the favour of the Almighty and everlasting life simply by 
her attention to moral maxims, without any reference 
to our Lord Jesus Christ, in whom alone is life. It 
happened, however, that Lady Magaret Hastings, one 
of her husband's sisters, came under the influence of 
those new doctrines which were winning such remarkable 
triumphs ; and not only so, she became an earnest and 
affectionate teacher of them to her family and friends. 
Among other things she one day made a remark to the 
Countess which produced a deep impression ; it was this, 
6 That since she had known and believed in the Lord 



THE CONVERSION OF THE COUNTESS. 



381 



Jesus Christ for life and salvation, she had been as happy 
as an angel.' The Countess knew that she herself could 
pretend to no such joy. The thought haunted her, and 
made her resolve to live a more religious life, which, 
according to her notions, was to multiply her good works 
and increase her austerities. This brought her no relief. 
A dangerous illness then fell upon her ; she was brought 
nigh to death ; the prospect was terrible ; her conscience 
was restless ; and no remembrance of her almsgivings 
and fastings could calm it. Then Lady Margaret's words 
came back into her mind with fresh meaning and force ; 
and she learned that Jesus Christ is our life and our sal- 
vation. Her illness left her, and she arose to enter upon 
a career as remarkable as that of any peeress of England. 

The change was soon manifest ; nor were court beauties, 
such as the Duchess of Buckingham, well pleased to see 
it. They thought that the Earl might very properly 
exert his authority to unconvert her ; for it was not to 
be borne that the Methodists should gain a countess. 
The Earl did not care to undertake the task, but thought 
that a conversation with his former tutor, Bishop Benson, 
might do her good, and accordingly recommended her to 
see his lordship. The bishop came, but to a much harder 
task than he had anticipated. Turning to the Scriptures, 
to the articles and the homilies, the neophyte preached 
to him his duties in a style not familiar to bishops' ears : 
she would not relax her devotion ; he must increase his. 
The kind man was ruffled, and was departing in haste, 
and in anger at having ever laid hands on Whiten eld, 
whom he blamed for the conversion of the Countess, when 
her ladyship said in her own firm way, 4 My lord ! mark 
my words : when you are on your dying bed, that will 
be one of the few ordinations you will reflect upon with 
complacence.' 

The Earl of Huntingdon, who rather yielded to his 
wife's religious zeal than toned it down to harmonise with 



382 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEPIELD. 



his colder feelings, died on October 13, 1746, leaving 
the Countess in command of immense wealth, and free to 
carry out her wishes without interference from anyone. 
Everything favoured her assumption of that position 
which she was soon to gain, and towards which she took 
her first decisive step, when, in 1748, she appointed 
Whiten" eld her chaplain. Liberal to profusion in her 
gifts, arbitrary in temper, Calvinistic in creed, consum- 
mate in administrative ability, devout in spirit, and 
thoroughly consecrated to the glory of Christ, she was 
unmistakably the proper leader of the Calvinistic side 
of the Methodist body. Whitefield might be its great 
preacher, but he could not, and cared not to form a 
party. The Countess must form any organisation that 
might be required. 

And how did Whitefield bear all this strange change 
of circumstances? I wish I could say that he bore it as 
well as he took Adam Gib's pamphlet, or the pelting at 
Moorfields. View it from any standpoint, still his manner 
towards the Countess does not look manly and dignified. 
That he never resigned his independence, and that he 
never bore any of that arbitrariness which some ministers 
revolted against, some endured, and others treated with 
good-tempered indifference, is certain ; but he did use a 
strain of address to his new friend which is most painful 
to read. He was, at this time, abandoning some of his 
apostolical language : pity that he should have compen- 
sated himself by fixing on the title, ' elect lady,' and 
using it till his death, as his description of the good 
Countess. He used to advise his friends - to be servant- 
like, but not servile ; ' pity that in this case he did not 
observe the distinction with due care. Yet there are 
many allowances to be made, and it is only just to him 
to keep them in mind. His boyhood and his youth had 
been spent in service which, we may easily believe, left 
some impression both on his mind and his manner ; the 



HIS BEARING TOWARDS THE COUNTESS. 383 

first in waiting upon customers at a common bar; the 
second in attending to the wants of young men whom 
he ought to have met as their equal, if their polished 
manners and independent bearing were to be of service to 
him ; whereas these advantages may have made him feel 
his own disadvantages all the more deeply, and caused 
him to use a more deferential tone than was quite healthy 
for his manliness. A far deeper reason — the reason, in 
fact — lay in his humble opinion of himself, which was 
rooted in his intense religiousness. None was of poorer 
spirit ; none more freely accounted himself the servant 
of all ; none was filled with more gratitude and wonder, 
when the least kindness was shown him by the humblest 
person. He thought that he ought to serve everyone, 
carry their burdens, and weep for their losses ; but never 
seemed to think that his brother was under the same 
obligation to him. He was honoured, privileged, if any 
one would let him serve him. Throughout the whole of 
his life he never thought himself a person of any con- 
sequence, or prided himself on his unrivalled powers : 
all was enjoyed and used with the simplicity of a little 
child. The slightest attention to his wants, even if paid 
by a Negro, would evoke boundless gratitude, which he 
always expressed in the warmest terms. It was no un- 
common thing for him to be filled with such mean 
thoughts of himself as to make him surprised that the 
crowds did not stone him. Many a time he said that he 
could wash Wesley's feet. The disagreeable parts of the 
following letter are due to anything but vanity, or I have 
misread him in every position in life, as well as in this, 
among the nobility. Besides, it should never be for- 
gotten, that he used as much plainness of speech on 
religious subjects with the rich as with the poor — and his 
plainness was very plain indeed. 

< August 21, 1748. 

£ Honoured Madam, — I received your ladyship's letter late 
last night, and write this to inform your ladyship that I am 



384 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 

quite willing to comply with your invitation. As I am to 
preach, Grod willing, at St. Bartholomew's, on Wednesday 
evening, I will wait upon your ladyship the next morning, and 
spend the whole day at Chelsea. Blessed be Grod that the rich 
and great begin to have an hearing ear. I think it is a good 
sign that our Lord intends to give to some at least an obedient 
heart. Surely your ladyship and Madam E. are only the first- 
fruits. May you increase and multiply ! I believe you will. 
How wonderfully does our Eedeemer deal with souls ! If they will 
hear the gospel only under a ceiled roof, ministers shall be sent 
to them there. If only in a church, or a field, they shall have 
it there. A word in the lesson, when I was last at your lady- 
ship's struck me — " Paul preached privately to those that were 
of reputation." This must be the way, I presume, of dealing 
with the nobility who yet know not the Lord. that I may 
be enabled, when called upon to preach to any of them, so to 
preach as to win their souls to the blessed Jesus ! I know that 
your ladyship will pray that it may be so. As for my poor 
prayers, such as they are, your ladyship hath them every day. 
That the blessed Jesus may make your ladyship happily instru- 
mental in bringing many of the noble and mighty to the saving- 
knowledge of His eternal Self, and water your own soul every 
moment, is the continual request of, honoured madam, 

4 Your ladyship's most obliged, obedient, humble servant, 

4 GrEORGE WHITEFIELD.' 

In a letter to Wesley, written a week later, he thus 
refers to the question of union : ' What have you 
thought about an union ? I am afraid an external one 
is impracticable. I find by your sermons that we differ 
in principles more than I thought ; and I believe we are 
upon two different plans. My attachment to America 
will not permit me to abide very long in England ; conse- 
quently, I should but weave a Penelope's web if I formed 
societies ; and if I should form them I have not proper 
assistants to take care of them. I intend, therefore, to 
go about preaching the gospel to every creature. You, 
I suppose, are for settling societies everywhere : but 
more of this when we meet.' 



DEATH OF LOED ST. JOHN. 



385 



The following are some of the ' great and noble ' who 
came to the preaching in the drawing-room of the 
Countess of Huntingdon : — The Duchess of Argyll, 
Lady Betty Campbell, Bubb Doddington, George Sel- 
wyn, the Duchess of Montagu, Lady Cardigan, Lord 
Townshend, Charles Townshend, Mr. Lyttleton, Mr. Pitt, 
Lord North, Lord Sandwich. The doctrines which 
Whitefield taught found other believers besides the 
Countess. Lord St. John, half-brother of Bolingbroke, 
seems to have been a convert. His last words, spoken 
to the clergyman who attended him, were — 4 To God I 
commit myself : I feel how unworthy I am ; but He 
died to save sinners, and the prayer of my heart now 
to Him is, God be merciful to me a sinner.' Lady Hunt- 
ingdon observes, in a letter to Whitefield, to whom she is 
recounting St. John's last hours, 4 This, my good friend, 
is the first-fruits of that plenteous harvest which I trust 
the great Husbandman will yet reap amongst the nobility 
of our land. Thus the great Lord of the harvest hath 
put honour on your ministry, and hath given my heart 
an encouraging token of the utility of our feeble efforts. 
Oh that He may crown them still more abundantly with 
His blessing ! Some, I trust, are savingly awakened, while 
many are inquiring. My Lord Bolingbroke was much 
struck with his brother's language in his last moments. 
I have not seen him since, but am told he feels deeply. 
Oh that the obdurate heart of this desperate infidel may 
yet be shook to its very centre ; may his eyes be opened 
by the illuminating influence of divine truth, and may 
the Lord Jesus Christ be revealed to his heart as the 
hope of glory and immortal bliss hereafter ! I tremble 
for his destiny : he is a singularly awful character ; and 
I am fearfully alarmed lest that gospel which he so 
heartily despises, yet affects to reverence, should prove 
eventually the savour of death unto death to his im- 
mortal soul.' 



386 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



Bolingbroke was only moved so far as to offer himself 
as a champion of the Calvinistic doctrines ; not that he 
cared for them, but they had a philosophical side, and he 
would not object to stand as the philosopher of Calvin- 
istic Methodism ! ' You may command my pen when 
you will,' he said to the Countess ; £ it shall be drawn in 
your service. For, admitting the Bible to be true, I shall 
have little apprehension of maintaining the doctrines of 
predestination and grace against all your revilers.' What 
would have been the issue of a contest between Wesley 
and his lordship on the five points ? 

The eccentric Lady Townshend was one of the first 
to admire Whitefield's oratory ; and probably she did so 
quite as much because such admiration was unusual 
among her friends as because the oratory was noble and 
commanding. When her freakish fancy pointed to an 
opposite course, she was equally ready to dislike and dis- 
parage her favourite. With equal facility could she turn 
Papist as Methodist ; a cathedral or a tabernacle for her 
place of worship, it mattered not which, if she pleased her 
whim. Horace Walpole tells a characteristic story about 
her. ' Have you heard,' he says, ' the great loss the 
Church of England has had? It is not avowed, but 
hear the evidence and judge. On Sunday last, as George 
Selwyn was strolling home to dinner, at half an hour 
after four, he saw my Lady Townshend's coach stop at 
Carracioli's chapel; he watched — saw her go in — her 
footman laughed — he followed; she went up to the 
altar, a woman brought her a cushion, she knelt, crossed 
herself, and prayed. He stole up and knelt by her — con- 
ceive her face, if you can, when she turned and found 
him close to her ! In his most demure voice, r he said, 
" Pray, madam, how long has your ladyship left the pale 
of our Church ? " She looked furies, and made no answer. 
Next day he went to her, and she turned it off upon 
curiosity ; but is anything more natural ? No ; she cer- 



THE COUNTESS OP SUFFOLK. 



387 



tainly means to go armed with every viaticum : the 
Church of England in one hand, Methodism in the other, 
and the Host in her mouth ! ' Once Whitefield cherished 
some hope of her conversion, through a serious illness 
which she had ; and as late as 1775 Lady Huntingdon 
wrote to her, when she was again in a similar condition, 
and evidently indulged in hopes such as had previously 
buoyed Whitefield up. She seemed to prefer Methodism 
for times of trial. 

The Countess of Suffolk was neither so calmly im- 
partial as Bolingbroke nor so obligingly changeful as 
Lady Townshend. Her circumstances — the loss of her 
husband and her only son — at the time that Lady Guild- 
ford took her to the Countess's to hear the Methodist 
chaplain, might have been thought favourable to her 
acceptance of the truths of religion ; but she was stung 
and enraged by every word which Whitefield, ignorant 
both of her presence and her condition, said. Her self- 
control gave way as soon as he withdrew, at the close of 
the service. She then abused Lady Huntingdon to her 
face, in the presence of the illustrious congregation, and 
' denounced the sermon as a deliberate attack upon her- 
self.' Her relatives who were present — Lady Betty 
Germain, Lady Eleanor Bertie, and the Duchess Dowager 
of Ancaster — attempted in vain alternately to pacify her, 
by explaining to her that she was mistaken, and to si- 
lence her by command. Thinking herself insulted, she 
would not for some time hear reason ; but at length she 
was prevailed upon to apologise, though only with a bad 
grace, to Lady Huntingdon for her rudeness. She was 
never seen again among Whitefi eld's hearers, nor did she 
ever really forgive the Countess ; on her death-bed she 
denied the Countess permission to come and speak with 
her. 

Lady Fanny Shirley, an aunt of Lady Huntingdon, 
the friend and neighbour of Pope, and the rival of Lady 



388 LIFE AND TEAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

Mary Wortley Montague, became, through the efforts of 
the Countess Delitz, a conspicuous member of the aristo- 
cratic Methodist circle, and had her change of mind duly 
chronicled in the gossiping letters of Walpole. 4 If you 
ever think of returning to England,' he writes to Sir 
Horace Mann, 4 as I hope it will be long first, you must 
prepare yourself with Methodism. I really believe by 
that time it will be necessary ; this sect increases as fast 
as almost ever any religious nonsense did. Lady Fanny 
Shirley has chosen this way of bestowing the dregs of 
her beauty ; and Mr. Lyttleton is very near making the 
same sacrifice of the dregs of all those various characters 
that he has worn. The Methodists love your big sinners, 
as proper subjects to work upon — and indeed they have a 
plentiful harvest.' 

There can be no doubt that Walpole spoke the truth, 
both about the rapid increase of Methodism and its love 
for 4 big sinners ; ' and some one who shared his alarm at 
its advance, through the popularity.and success of White- 
field, even ventured to suggest to the king that the 
preacher should be restrained. 4 1 believe the best way/ 
said the king, 4 will be to make a bishop of him ! ' 

The Countess of Huntingdon told Mr. Barry, E.A., a 
story which confirms the sneer about big sinners. He 
reports it thus : — 4 Some ladies called one Saturday morn- 
ing to pay a visit to Lady Huntingdon, and during the 
visit her ladyship inquired of them if they had ever heard 
Mr. Whitefield preach. Upon being answered in the 
negative, she said, I wish you would hear him : he is to 
preach to-morrow evening at such a church or chapel, 
the name of which the writer forgets — nor is it material. 
They promised her ladyship they would certainly attend. 
They w^ere as good as their word ; and upon calling on 
the Monday morning on her ladyship, she anxiously in- 
quired if they had heard Mr. Whitefield on the previous 
evening, and how they liked him. The reply was, 44 Oh, 



THE DEVIL'S CASTAWAYS. 



389 



my lady, of all the preachers we ever heard, he is the 
most strange and unaccountable. Among other prepos- 
terous things — would your ladyship believe it ? — he de- 
clared that Jesus Christ was so willing to receive sinners 
that He did not object to receive even the devil's cast- 
aways. Now, my lady, did you ever hear of such a 
thing since you were born ? " To which her ladyship 
made the following reply — " There is something, I ac- 
knowledge, a little singular in the invitation, and I do not 
recollect to have ever met with it before ; but as Mr. 
Whitefield is below in the parlour, we'll have him up, 
and let him answer for himself." Upon his coming up 
into the drawing-room, Lady Huntingdon said — " Mr. 
Whitefield, these ladies have been preferring a very 
heavy charge against you, and I thought it best that you 
should come up and defend yourself. They say that in 
your sermon last evening, in speaking of the willingness 
of Jesus Christ to receive sinners, you expressed yourself 
in the following terms : That so ready was Christ to re- 
ceive sinners who came to Him, that he was willing to 
receive even the devil's castaways," Mr. Whitefield imme- 
diately replied, " I certainly, my lady, must plead guilty 
to the charge ; whether I did what was right or other- 
wise, your ladyship shall judge from the following cir- 
cumstance. Did your ladyship notice, about half an hour 
ago, a very modest single rap at the door ? It was given 
by a poor, miserable-looking aged female, who requested 
to speak with me. I desired her to be shown into the 
parlour, when she accosted me in the following manner : 
— " I believe, sir, you preached last evening at such a 
chapel?" "Yes, I did." "Ah, sir, I was accidentally 
passing the door of that chapel, and hearing the voice of 
some one preaching, I did what I have never been in the 
habit of doing — I went in ; and one of the first things I 
heard you say was, that Jesus Christ was so willing to 
receive sinners, that he did not object to receiving the 



390 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 

devil's castaways. Now, sir, I have been on the town 
for many years, and am so worn out in his service, that I 
think I may with truth be called one of the devil's cast- 
aways. Do you think, sir, that Jesus Christ would receive 
me ?" Mr. Whiteneld assured her there was no doubt of 
it, if she was but willing to go to Him. From the sequel, 
it appeared that it was the case, and that it ended in the 
sound conversion of this poor creature ; and Lady Hunt- 
ingdon was assured from most respectable authority, that 
the woman left a very charming testimony behind her 
that, though her sins had been of a crimson hue, the 
atoning blood of Christ had washed them white as snow.' 

Whitefield's labours among the rich were relieved by 
the more congenial work of visiting some of the provin- 
cial towns. From Gloucester he wrote a letter to the 
Trustees of Georgia, which is painful to read, for its de- 
fence of slavery ; nay, worse than that, its entreaty that 
slavery might be introduced where it did not already 
exist. The profit of the slave-trade was now becoming 
so great that all who had any interest in its extension 
were clamouring to have restrictions removed. The 
mercenary spirit was blind and deaf to the griefs and 
wrongs of the poor Africans ; and it is deplorable that 
Whiteneld, one of the most generous and self-denying of 
men, should have been affected with the popular tone of 
thought and feeling. It was often said, when slavery 
was the domestic institution of America, that contact with 
it too frequently dulled conscience, and turned anti- 
slavery men into pro-slavery men ; and from that letter 
which, under the first burst of indignation at the sight of 
shameful cruelties, Whiteneld wrote to the inhabitants of 
South Carolina, it would seem that he was no exception 
to the rule. His letter to the Trustees protests his interest 
in the welfare of the colony ; but could he have seen the 
result of his policy, as it is now to be traced, in the blood 
and shame of the Negro, through many weary years, he 



SLAVERY IN GEORGIA. 



391 



would have counted himself Georgia's worst enemy. His 
name has an unhappy distinction as the most famous of 
all who tried to. turn Georgia into a Slave State. The 
following is his letter : — 

6 To the Honourable Trustees of Georgia. 

' Gloucester, December 6, 1748. 

6 Honoured gentlemen, — Not want of respect, but a suspicion 
that my letters would not be acceptable, has been the occasion 
of my not writing to you these four years last past. I am sen- 
sible that in some of my former letters, through hurry of 
business, want of more experience, and in all probability too 
great an opinion of my sufficiency, I expressed myself in too 
strong, and sometimes unbecoming, terms. For this I desire 
to be humbled before Grod and man, knowing that, Peter like, 
by a misguided zeal, I have cut off, as it were, those ears which 
otherwise might have been open to what I had to offer. How- 
ever, I can assure you, honoured gentlemen, to the best of my 
knowledge I have acted a disinterested part, and, notwith- 
standing my manifold mistakes and imprudence, I have simply 
aimed at Grod's glory and the good of mankind. This principle 
drew me first to Georgia ; this, and this alone, induced me to 
begin and carry on the scheme of the Orphan House ; and this, 
honoured gentlemen, excites me to trouble you with the present 
lines. 

£ I need not inform you, honoured gentlemen, how the colony 
of Greorgia has been declining for these many years last past, 
and at what great disadvantages I have maintained a large 
family in that wilderness, through the providence of a good 
and gracious Grod. Upwards of five thousand pounds have been 
expended in that undertaking, and yet very little proficiency 
made in the cultivation of my tract of land, and that entirely 
owing to the necessity I lay under of making use of white 
hands. Had a Negro been allowed, I should now have had a 
sufficiency to support a great many orphans, without expending 
'above half the sum which hath been laid out. An unwilling- 
ness to let so good a design drop, and having a rational convic- 
tion that it must necessarily, if some other method was not 
fixed upon to prevent it, — these two considerations, honoured 



392 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

gentlemen, prevailed on me, about two years ago, through the 
bounty of my good friends, to purchase a plantation in South 
Carolina, where Negroes are allowed. Blessed be God, this 
plantation hath succeeded ; and though at present I have only 
eight working hands, yet in all probability there will be more 
raised in one year, and with a quarter the expense, than has 
been .produced at Bethesda for several years last past. This 
confirms me in the opinion I have entertained for a long time, 
that G-eorgia never can or will be a flourishing province with- 
out Negroes are allowed. But, notwithstanding my private 
judgment, I am determined that not one of mine shall ever be 
allowed to work at the Orphan House till I can do it in a 
legal manner, and by the approbation of the honourable 
Trustees. My chief end in writing this is to inform you, 
honourable gentlemen, of the matter of fact, and to let you 
know that I am as willing as ever to do all I can for Georgia 
and the Orphan House, if either a limited use of Negroes is 
approved of, or some other indented servants sent over. If not, 
I cannot promise to keep any large family, or cultivate the 
plantation in any considerable manner. My strength must 
necessarily be taken to the other side. I would also further 
recommend it to your consideration, honourable gentlemen, 
whether or not, as the Orphan House - was and is intended for a 
charitable purpose, it ought not to be exempted from all quit- 
rents and public taxes, as I believe is customary universally 
for such institutions to be. And as most of the land on which 
the Orphan House is built is good for little, I would humbly 
inquire whether I may not have a grant for five hundred more 
acres that are not taken up, somewhere near the Orphan House ? 
My intention is, if you, honourable gentlemen, are pleased to 
put the colony upon another footing — I mean in respect to the 
permission of a limited use of Negroes — to make the Orphan 
House not only a receptacle for fatherless children, but also a 
place of literature and academical studies. Such a place is 
much wanted in the southern parts of America, and, if con- 
ducted in a proper manner, must necessarily be of great service 
to any colony. I can easily procure proper persons to embark 
in such a cause, and I do not know but several families would 
go over, supposing I could give them a probable prospect of a 
support upon their honest industry. I could say more, but I 



DEATH OF BR. WATTS. 



393 



fear I have been already too prolix. I humbly recommend 
what has been urged to your consideration, and beg leave to 
subscribe myself, honourable gentlemen, 

6 Your most obedient, humble servant, 

6 GrEORGE WHITEFIELD.' 

Whitefield is seen, at the end of 1748, in kindly and 
close communion with the two foremost Nonconformists 
of his day. On November 25, he called at Lady Abney's 
to see Dr. Watts, who described himself as 6 a wait- 
ing servant of Christ.' He helped to raise the vener- 
able man to take some medicine ; and within half an 
hour of his departure from the house, the 6 servant ' had 
ceased his ' waiting,' and entered into 4 the joy of his 
Lord.' 

Whiter! eld's letter to Doddridge, on December 21, 
is full of brotherly sympathy with the doctor in his 
troubles through the Moravians, who had disturbed his 
congregation. Whitefield had felt all the annoyance of 
having his work damaged and broken by meddling men, 
and could thoroughly enter into Doddridge's feelings. He 
speaks as a chastened, humbled, submissive, and chari- 
tably-minded man, not blaming his troublers more than 
he condemns himself, and gratefully acknowledging the 
personal benefit that their conduct, under the divine bless- 
ing, had been to him. It is with touching humility that 
he refers to those dark days when he came from America 
and found his converts turned against him. He says — 
' The Moravians first divided my family, then my parish 
at Georgia, and after that the societies which, under God, 
I was an instrument of gathering. I suppose not less 
than four hundred, through their practices, have left the 
Tabernacle. But I have been forsaken other ways. I 
have not had above an hundred to hear me where I had 
twenty thousand, and hundreds now assemble within a 
quarter of a mile of me who never come to see or speak 
to me, though they must own at the great clay that I 



394 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

was their spiritual father. All this I find but little enougli 
to teach me to cease from man, and to wean me from 
that too great fondness which spiritual fathers are apt to 
have for their spiritual children.' 

It is not less pleasant to find Whitefield and his old tutor 
together again at Bristol. Dr. E was now a prebend- 
ary, and when Whitefield called upon him he received him 
gladly". They talked about the Church and Methodism ; 
and Whitefield told him that his judgment was riper than 
it had been at the outset of his career, and that as fast as 
he found out his faults he should be glad to acknowledge 
them. The prebendary replied that as Whitefield grew 
moderate, the offence of the bishops and other dignitaries 
would wear away — a change which Whitefield would 
have hailed with satisfaction, though he was content to 
be under displeasure ; his great anxiety was to act an 
honest part, and to keep from 6 trimming.' This is the 
last glimpse we shall get of the kindly man, who did 
Whitefield no slight service by his fatherly oversight, 
when misguided earnestness and anxiety in religion might 
have ruined Whitefield's energies for life. 

The winter's work among the nobility damaged White- 
field's health not a little. He was glad to get away into 
the west, to revisit some of his former places of labour 
— Bristol, Plymouth, Exeter, Gloucester. Between 
January 28 and March 10, 1749, this feeble, suffer- 
ing man performed a journey of six hundred miles, 
preaching as frequently as he ever had done in the days 
of health, and, notwithstanding the unseasonable time of 
the year for open-air services, often in the open air. His 
life was a faithful embodiment of some of his happy say- 
ings ; such as, 4 1 do not preach for life, but from life ; ' 
6 Like a pure crystal, I would transmit all the glory that 
God is pleased to pour upon me, and never claim as my 
own what is His sole property.' It was with much reluc- 
tance that he thought of turning from his beloved 



DIFFIDENCE. 



395 



' ranging' to renew his work in the Countess's house. The 
same diffidence which made him shrink from encounter- 
ing the shocks of life, when he approached the American 
coast on his second visit to America, made him write to 
his friend Hervey — 4 Lady Huntingdon writes me word, 
that "the prospect of doing good at my return to London 
is very encouraging." Thither I am now bound. I go 
with fear and trembling, knowing how difficult it is to 
speak to the great so as to win them to Jesus Christ. I 
am sometimes ready to say, Lord, I pray Thee have me 
excused, and send by whom Thou wilt send. But divine 
grace is sufficient for me. My dear brother, fail not to 
pray for me, that I may hold on and hold out to the end, 
and in prosperity and adversity press forward with an 
even, cheerful, meek, and lowly mind towards the mark, 
for the prize of our high calling in Christ Jesus.' In 
quite the same spirit he says to the same friend, a few 
weeks later, 4 You judge right when you say, it is your 
opinion that I do not want to make a sect, or set myself 
at the head of a party. No ; let the name of Whiteneld 
die, so that the cause of Jesus Christ may live. I have 
seen enough of popularity to be sick of it ; and did not 
the interest of my blessed Master require my appearing 
in public, the world should hear but little of me hence- 
forward.' There is a racy humour in some of his letters 
which makes his wisdom all the more palatable. To one 
brother minister he says, 6 1 am glad your children grow 
so fast ; they become fathers soon ; I wish some may not 
prove dwarfs at last. A word to the wise is sufficient. 
I have always found awakening times like spring times : 
many blossoms, but not always so much fruit. But go 
on, my dear man, and in the strength of the Lord you 
shall do valiantly.' 

Thus he entered upon his weekly duty among the rich, 
not caring for fame, and not seeking it, as humble a clergy- 
man as ministered in any English church ; not sanguine 



396 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

about the harvest of his new field, but still as eager to do 
his best as when he preached his first sermon, success and 
failure counting nothing with him in determining what 
he should attempt. Woe was unto him if he preached 
not the gospel ; to the will of his Lord, and that only, 
did he look. 

But other work than preaching demanded his atten- 
tion ; for it was no idle word which he spoke to his old 
tutor, when he told him that he would acknowledge his 
faults as fast as he found them out. The Bishop of 
Exeter, Dr. Lavington, furnished him with a fine oppor- 
tunity of retracting many blameworthy words and deeds ; 
and no part of his life is more remarkable than this for 
its exhibition of frankness and humility. The bishop 
wrote, in 1747, when Whitefleld was absent in America, 
a treatise on ' The Enthusiasm of the Methodists and 
Papists,' in which he attempted to draw a parallel be- 
tween the ancient Church and the new sect, or rather the 
new men of his own Church. The subject was tempting 
to an enemy ; and the argument adopted valid, if every- 
thing belonging to Popery be evil. The syllogism was — 
Everything belonging to Popery is bad ; the enthusiasm 
of the Methodists and the Papists is the same ; therefore 
the enthusiasm of the Methodists is bad. The identity of 
Methodist and Popish enthusiasm is traced with much 
patience. Dominicans, Franciscans, and Jesuits are shown 
to be the true forerunners of Whitefield and Wesley! For, 
first — 6 For the better advancement of their purposes, both 
commonly begin their adventures with field preaching ! ' 
It is unquestionable that Whitefield said, that he never 
was more acceptable to his Master than when he was 
standing to teach in the open fields ; and ' Peter of 
Verona, mirror of sanctity, of the holy order of Friars 
Preachers, had ' — says Eibadeneira, in the ' Lives of the 
Saints' — ' a divine talent in preaching ; neither churches, 
nor streets, nor market-places, could contain the great 



BISHOP LAVINGTON'S ATTACK. 



397 



concourse that resorted to hear his sermons. He was the 
hammer and thunderbolt to break and crush heretics, and 
made inquisitor to punish and persecute them.' Secondly. 
• At first the Methodists, as a show of humility, made it 
a point not to ride, either on horseback or in a coach ; 
though occasionally, and for conveniency sake, they have 
thought proper to deviate from their rule. I could no 
longer," savs Mr. WMtefield, 44 walk on foot, as usual, 
but was constrained to go in a coach, to avoid the ho- 
sannas of the multitude/' Very profane, unless it be a 
false print for huzzas. So was it one of St. Francis' rules 
" never to ride, but only in cases of manifest necessity or 
infirmity.'' ' Thirdly, 4 How good and saintlike it is to 
go dirty, ragged, and slovenly ! And how piously did 
Mr. Whitefield, therefore, take care of the outward man ! 
- My apparel was mean ; I thought it unbecoming a peni- 
tent to have powdered hair ; I wore woollen gloves, a 
patched gown, and dirty shoes." Thus his predecessor 
in saintship, " Ignatius, loved to appear abroad with old 
dirty shoes, used no comb, let his hair clot, and would 
never pare his nails." A certain Jesuit was so holy that 
he had a hundred and fifty patches upon his breeches, 
and proportionably on his other garments.' Fourthly, 
4 Of this nature, likewise, is their utter condemnation of ail 
recreation and diversion, in every kind and degree. 
Mr. WMtefield, in his letter from Xew Brunswick, de- 
clares, 44 That no recreations, considered as such, can be 
innocent. I now began to attack the devil in his strong- 
est holds, and bore testimony against the detestable diver- 
sions of this generation." And what says the Papist? 
44 St. Ignatius, by declaiming against cards and dice, pre- 
vailed upon a whole town to throw them into the river : 
and there was no more play there for three years." ' 
Fifthly, 4 Another bait to catch admirers, and very com- 
mon among enthusiasts, is a restless impatience and thirst 
of travelling, and undertaking dangerous voyages, for the 



398 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



conversion of infidels, together with a declared contempt 
of all dangers, pains, and sufferings. They must desire, 
love, and pray for ill-usage, persecution, martyrdom, 
death, and hell (? purgatory). Accordingly, our itinerant 
Methodists are fond of expressing their zeal on this ac- 
count. Mr. Whitefield says, " When letters came from 
Messrs. Wesleys, and Ingham their fellow-labourer, their 
accounts fired my soul, made me even long to go abroad 
for God too ; though too weak in body, I felt at times 
such a strong attraction in my soul towards Georgia, 
that I thought it almost irresistible." All this only shows 
the natural unsettled humour, the rapid motion of enthu- 
siastic heads. " how many times have the nuns seen 
their sister of Pazzi, drunk with zeal for the conversion 
of sinners and infidels, run about the cloisters and gar- 
dens, and other places, bemoaning that she was not a 
man, to go abroad, and gam erring souls ! " The wind- 
mill is in all them heads.' Sixthly, ' I shall farther con- 
sider some of the circumstances attending their new 
ministration. What first occurs to my mind is the boasted 
success of them preaching, proved by the numbers of their 
followers and converts. But let us hear themselves. Mr. 
Whitefield says, " Thousands and ten thousands follow 
us : the fire is kindled, and I know that ah the devils in 
hell shall not be able to quench it." This is a specimen 
of their success in conversions. And yet we can match 
them among their elder brethren. " St. Anthony had 
such a power over men and women that he converted all 
sorts of sinners, even usurers and common strumpets."' 
Seventhly, ' There is, however, reason to believe that the 
good work of Popery is carrying on, from some of their 
tenets and practices, over and above them stringing one 
extravagance upon another, in conformity with the Papal 
fanatics. To this purpose it might be remarked — what 
is manifestly true — that in their several answers and 
defences a strain of -Jesuitical sophistry, artifice and craft. 



BISHOP LAVIXGTO^'s ATTACK. 



399 



evasion, reserve, equivocation, and prevarication, is of 
constant use. But to waive this. "How often," says 
Mr. Whitefield, " at the early sacraments have we seen 
Jesus Christ crucified, and evidently set forth before us ! " 
Upon this, I asked, whether this did not encourage the 
notion of a real corporal presence in the sacrifice of the 
mass, and was not as good an argument for transubstan- 
tiation as the several fleshy appearances produced by the 
Papists ? ' Eighthly, Methodists, Konian Catholics, and 
ancient pagans, are all of the same seed ; for, 6 Seeing 
how artful the Methodists are in making diseases to be 
the workings of God's Spirit and signs of grace and 
sanctity, we may conclude that all their holinesses, Mr. 
Wesley, Mr. Whitefield, and the Pope, have embraced the 
religion of their pagan predecessors, who — as we read 
in divers authors — consecrated most kinds of distempers 
of the body and affections of the mind, erected temples 
and altars to fevers, paleness, madness, and death, to 
laughter, lust, contumely, impudence, and calumny.' 
Ninthly, as proof that Bishop Lavington is not jesting 
when he pretends to find the worst faults of Popery in 
Methodism, and that the parallel which he is trying to 
run between the enthusiasm of both can be carried out 
to the last, he even, after putting Wesley in the same 
category with Simon Magus, as a sorcerer and bewitcher 
of the people, shrinks not from charging the obscenities 
of the heathen mysteries upon the people whom he would 
defame. By some oversight, he did not mark that many 
women 'who were sinners' had been touched by White- 
field's appeals, or doubtless Whitefield's name would have 
appeared in the shameful pages which are devoted to this 
last argument against Methodism. Wesley is left without 
the countenance and company of his friend, who would 
gladly have borne the reproach with him. There is only 
one thing more painful than the reading of such unscru- 
pulous attacks, and it is the assurance of Archdeacon 



400 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 

Moore that the assertion that ' Bishop Lavington in his 
latter days repented of his writings against the Methodists, 
I know to be without foundation, as far as his conversa- 
tion could afford assurance to the contrary. To the very 
last he always spoke of them as a fraternity compounded 
of hypocrites and enthusiasts.' 

A crushing answer might have been penned by almost 
any honest man ; but Whitefield's 6 Eemarks upon the 
Pamphlet,' as he calls his reply, are better than any 
formal answer. Their spirit is something wonderful ; and 
it is impossible to turn from perusing the bishop's slanders 
and abuse, to read Whitefield's reply, without feeling how 
good and blessed a thing is an honest, forgiving heart. 
Lavington had said that the Methodist preachers, like St. 
Anthony, were attended by ' a sturdy set of followers, as 
their guards, armed with clubs under their clothes, me- 
nacing and terrifying such as should dare to speak lightly 
of their apostle.' 1 You add,' says Whitefield, ' 44 1 have 
heard it often affirmed ; " and so might the heathens have 
said that they heard it often affirmed, that when the pri- 
mitive Christians received the blessed sacrament, they 
killed a young child, and then sucked its blood. But 
was that any reason why they should believe it ? It is 
true, indeed, some of the Methodist preachers have more 
than once been attended with a sturdy set of followers, 
armed with clubs and other weapons, not as their guards, 
but opposers and persecutors ; and who have not only 
menaced and terrified, but actually abused and beat many 
of those who came to hear him whom you, I suppose, 
would call their apostle. Both Methodist preachers and 
Methodist hearers too, for want of better arguments, have 
often felt the weight of such irresistible power, which, 
literally speaking, hath struck many of them dumb, and, 
I verily believe, had it not been for some superior in- 
visible guard, must have struck them dead. These are all 
the sturdy set of armed followers that the Methodists 



BISHOP LAVINGTON'S ATTACK. 



401 



know of. And whatever you may unkindly insinuate 
about my being aware of a turbulent spirit, a fighting 
enthusiasm, amongst them, because I said " I dread 
nothing more than the false zeal of my friends in a suffer- 
ing hour," I think many years' experience may convince 
the world that the weapons of their warfare, like those 
of their blessed Eedeemer and His apostles, have not 
been carnal ; but, thanks be to God, however you may 
ridicule His irresistible power, they have, through Him, 
been mighty to the pulling down of Satan's strongholds in 
many a sturdy sinner's heart.' 

Whitefield confessed that 4 there is generally much — too 
much — severity in our first zeal ; at least there was in 
mine ; ' also that his and Seward's treatment of Arch- 
bishop Tillotson 4 was by far too severe. We condemned 
his state, when we ought only, in a candid manner, which 
I would do again if called to it, to have mentioned what 
we judged wrong in his doctrines. I do not justify it. 
I condemn myself most heartily, and ask pardon for it, 
as I believe he (Seward) would do, were he now alive. 
But, then, do not you still go on, sir, to imitate us in our 
faults ; let the surviving Methodists answer for them- 
selves ; let Seward and Tillotson lie undisturbed.' White- 
field adds, on the subject of desiring persecution, 4 What- 
ever can be produced out of any of my writings to prove 
that I have desired or prayed for ill-usage, persecution, 
martyrdom, death, &c, I retract it with all my heart, as 
proceeding from the overflowings of an irregular, though 
well-meant, zeal.' He also thanks Lavington for pointing 
out the 4 very wrong expression ' about the 4 hosannas of 
the multitude.' 4 Your remark,' he says, 4 runs thus — 
44 Very profane, unless it be a false print for huzzas." I 
could wish it had been so, but the word was my own ; 
and though not intended to convey a profane idea, was 
very wrong and unguarded, and I desire may be buried 
in oblivion, unless you, or some other kind person, are 

D D 



402 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



pleased to remind me of it, in order to lay me low before 
God and man.' The last admission of all is worth all the 
rest, and does honour to Whitefield's candour ; it is a 
perfect atonement for his fault in repeating in public 
private things that occurred between himself and Wesley. 
He says : 4 A review of all this, together with my having 
dropped some too strong expressions about absolute 
reprobation, and more especially my mentioning Mr. 
Wesley's casting a lot on a private occasion, known only 
to God and ourselves, have put me to great pain. 
Speaking of this last you say, " A more judicious senti- 
ment, perhaps, never dropped from Mr. Whitefield's pen." 
I believe, sir, the advice given w^as right and good ; but 
then it was wrong in me to publish a private transaction 
to the world, and very ill-judged to think the glory of 
God could be promoted by unnecessarily exposing my 
friend. For this I have asked both God and him pardon 
years ago. And though I believe both have forgiven 
me, yet I believe I shall never be able to forgive myself. 
As it was a public fault, I think it should be publicly 
acknowledged ; and I thank a kind Providence for giving 
me this opportunity of doing it. As for the letters out 
of which you and the author of the " Observations on the 
Conduct and Behaviour of the Methodists" have taken 
so many extracts, I acknowledge that many things in 
them were very exceptionable, though good in the main, 
and therefore they have been suppressed some time. 
Casting lots I do not now approve of, nor have I for 
several years ; neither do I think it a safe way — though 
practised, I doubt not, by many good men — to make a 
lottery of the Scriptures, by dipping into them upon 
every occasion.' 

The whole of the summer, and the early part of the 
autumn, of 1749, were spent in a tour through the west, 
and through Wales ; thousands answering his call, and 
coming, as of old, even when the ram rendered an open- 



LOVE OF QUIETUDE. 



403 



air service both uncomfortable and dangerous. For two 
days lie sought retirement in his wife's house at Aberga- 
venny (she was now on her way from Bethesda to join 
him), and found it 4 so very sweet,' that he would have 
been glad never to have been heard of again. From 
thence he wrote to his brother at Bristol a letter which 
exhibits so many sides of his life and character that it 
demands a place in his biography : — 

1 Abergavenny, May 27, 1749. 
6 My very dear Brother, — Enclosed you have a letter from 
our good Lady Huntingdon, whom, I suppose, you will have 
the honour of receiving in a few days under your roof. Both 
before and ever since I left Bristol, I have been frequently 
thinking of the unspeakable mercies that the infinitely great 
and glorious Grod is pleased to pour down upon us. Surely the 
language of both our hearts ought to be, " What shall we render 
unto the Lord ? " For my part, I am lost in wonder, and want 
a thousand lives to spend in the Kedeemer's service. 0, let 
not my dear brother be angry if I entreat him at length to 
leave off killing, and begin to redeem, time. A concern for 
your eternal welfare so affects me, that it often brings bodily 
sickness upon me, and drives me to a throne of grace, to 
wrestle in your behalf. Even now, whilst I am writing, my 
soul is agonising in prayer for you, hoping I shall see that day 
when you will have poured out on you a spirit of grace and of 
supplication, and look to Him whom we have pierced, and be 
made to mourn as one mourneth for a first-born. Till this be 
done, all resolutions, all schemes for amendment, will be only 
like spiders' webs. Nature is a mere Proteus, and, till renewed 
by the Spirit of Grod, though it may shift its scene, will be only 
nature still. Apply then, my dearest brother, to the fountain 
of light and life, from whence every good and perfect gift 
cometh. 

6 A worthy woman, in all probability, is going to throw her- 
self under Grod into your hands. A considerable addition will 
be then made to your present talents, and consequently a greater 
share of care and circumspection necessary to improve all for 
the glory of Him who hath been always preventing and fol- 
lowing you with His blessings. Should you prove any otherwise 



404 LIFE AMD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



than a pious husband, it will be one of the greatest afflictions I 
ever met with in my life. At present you can only hurt yourself, 
which is hurt enough ; but then — forgive me, my dear brother ; 
I am jealous over you with a godly jealousy. My tears shall be 
turned into prayers, and I will follow this letter with strong 
crying unto Grod in your behalf. My retirement here these 
two days hath been very sweet ; but to-morrow I begin a three 
weeks' circuit. Next Sabbath I am to be at Carmarthen : the 
Friday following at Haverford West. For the present, adieu. 
That you may take Christ to be your all in all, and that the 
remainder of your life may be one continued sacrifice of love 
to Him who hath shed His precious blood for you, is the hearty 
prayer of, my dear brother, 

6 Yours most affectionately, 

4 George Whitefield. 1 

His work among the rich was done with a scrupulous 
disregard of all self-interest. To a friend — in Bermudas, 
I conjecture, though there is no clue by which to iden- 
tify him — who thought that Whitefield had carried 
religion very near the Court, if not quite into it, and that 
he might have influence enough to secure the appoint- 
ment of a religious governor to some colony where a 
governor was wanted, he replied that he should be very 
shy to ask favours, even if he had interest at Court, lest 
he should be thought to preach for himself and not for 
Christ Jesus his Lord, and because he would fain con- 
vince all that he sought not theirs but them. Yet he 
would use his influence with equal freedom in other 
quarters, and especially if it was for anyone in more than 
usually humble circumstances. Such a worthy object 
came under his notice during this tour, an obscure dis- 
senting minister, who had sold, part of his library to 
finish the meeting-house in which he preached, whose 
dress was very mean — as well it might be, seeing he had 
but three pounds per annum from a fund, and the same 
sum from his people — who lived very low, but enjoyed 
much of God, and who was something of a poet ; for 



DR. STOXHOUSE. 



405 



TVhitefield found that he had as good an understanding 
of the figurative parts of Scripture as anyone that he 
6 knew of in the world.' How could he forbear using 
his interest with a rich and benevolent friend for such a 
' poor, despised, faithful minister of Christ ? ' So he hints 
that four or five guineas might be bestowed on this 
Zachary, who also had a faithful Elizabeth. 

A hard task for him was it to inspire other hearts with 
as much moral courage as always bore up his own. By 
word, as well as by example, by reproach, and by loving 
persuasion, he would try to free the fearful from the fear 
of man, which hindered their full and self-denying con- 
secration to the will of Jesus Christ. One of the most 
difficult cases he ever had to manage was that of Dr. 
Stonhouse, of Northampton, an eminent physician, a 
friend of Doddridge, and a man of great refinement. 
Many were the expostulations of the bold evangelist 
before the shrinking: man could be brought to a firm 
stand. The following is one of Whitefield's letters to 
him. 

'Landovery, June 14, 1749. 
4 Dear Sir, — A few days ago I received a letter from Mr. C, 
in which yours to him, dated May 20th, was enclosed. It gave 
me some concern, and would have given me more, had not the 
same letter informed me that good Lady Huntingdon had 
written to you herself. Alas ! my dear friend, what needless 
trouble do you give yourself, and into what difficulties does 
your fear of man, your too great attachment to the world, and 
an overweening fondness for your pretty character, every day 
bring you! Is it not time to drop our correspondence, when, 
on so slight an information, you could so much as suspect that 
I had betrayed that confidence you reposed in me, or believe 
that I read a letter wherein you declared yourself a Methodist, 
when I had never such letter from you. The only passage, as 
far as I can remember, that was read — and that, too, at my 
lady's request, if I mistake not — was that noble one wherein 
you said, 44 Let the world take my character, and tear it to 
pieces," &c. Are you ashamed, my dear friend, of the resolu- 



406 LIFE ASD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



tion ? Or think you to put that in practice, and shun being 
called a Methodist ? You might as well attempt to reach 
heaven with your hand ; for, blessed be God, such an honour 
has He put upon the Methodists, that whoever renounces the 
world and takes up Christ's cross, and believes and lives the 
doctrines of grace, must be styled a Methodist, whether he will 
or not. Formerly it was "You are -a Puritan;" now it is 
" You are a Methodist.'" And why does Mr. Stonhouse take 
such pains to declare he never will join the Methodists ? 'Who 
ever asked him ? Or what service could you do their cause by 
joining, unless your heart was more estranged from the world 
than at present it is ? Would to God you were more likeminded 
with Mr. Hervey. He seems to have sat down and counted 
the cost. He seems to have begun at the right end, and to be 
fully convinced that there is no reconciling Christ and the 
world, God and mammon. My dear Mr. Stonhouse, suffer me 
to be free with you. Our Lord, I trust, has begun a good work 
in your soul ; but, indeed, you have many lessons yet to learn. 
The great Physician must give many a bitter potion, in order 
to purge out the opinion you have of your own importance, and 
the too great desire you have to keep in with the world. 
Reproach you cannot shun, if you appear but a little for 
Christ ; and you will not have more, perhaps not so much, if 
you show quite out. Perhaps you may say, " I have done this 
already : " do not, then, be ashamed of it, but go on ; grow in 
grace ; press forwards ; and then I care not what declaration 
you make of your not intending to be a Methodist. Be a con- 
sistent Christian ; live above the world ; call not the fear of 
man Christian prudence ; and then underneath you shall be 
God's everlasting arms. Thanks be to God, they have upholden 
me for some weeks last past. 

£ I have now been a circuit of several hundred miles. At 
Portsmouth and Gosport the word ran, and was glorified. In 
South Wales everywhere the fields have been white, ready unto 
harvest. Xot a dog stirs his tongue. Last Sunday, I believe, 
I preached to near twenty thousand souls. Grace ! grace ! In 
about ten days I hope to be at Bristol. Soon after I propose 
to go to London, and from thence to Yorkshire and Scotland. 
Follow me with your prayers, and in return you shall be 
remembered by, very dear sir, your affectionate friend, 

6 GEOEGE WlHTEFIELD.' 



WELLINGTON. 



407 



His hope of being in Bristol within ten days was 
realised. The day of his arrival was exactly a month 
after the time of his beginning his circuit ; and this is 
the account of his work : — 6 Yesterday God brought me 
here, after having carried me a circuit of about eight 
hundred miles, and enabled me to preach, I suppose, to 
upwards of a hundred thousand souls. I have been in 
eight Welsh counties, and I think we have not had one 
dry meeting. The work in Wales is much upon the 
advance, and likely to increase daily. Had my dear Mr. 
Hervey been there to have seen the simplicity of so many 
dear souls, I am persuaded he would have said, "Sit 
anima mea cum Methodistis ! " But everyone to his 
post. During this excursion I have been kept happy 
inwardly, and well in body till the latter end of last 
week, when the Lord was pleased to lay His hand upon 
me, so that I was almost brought to the grave. But He 
that wounds heals also.' 

Soon afterwards Whitefield resumed his work in Lon- 
don for a little while, and then returned into the west, 
where Methodist doctrines were agitating all minds, and 
where he was an especial object of interest, on account 
of his reply to the first part of Bishop Lavington's 
pamphlet. The journey has as many incidents as would 
serve to form the remarkable parts of many a life, but 
in this career they are in danger of being passed over as 
commonplace. It would be a rare thing in the life of 
any clergyman were he, on being recognised as he passed 
through a town, to be asked and entreated by a humble 
unknown woman to stay and give the people a sermon ; 
and upon consenting to do so, soon to find himself sur- 
rounded with 6 a great company.' And the next day the 
congregation at the same place was still greater. This 
happened at Wellington, when Whitefield rode through it. 

All along his way he found the good seed of past sow- 
ing times springing up and promising an abundant harvest. 



408 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



At Plymouth the wonderful power which attended his 
first and second visit was making things look quite new. 
His pamphlet in reply to the bishop had been useful to 
some ; its candour and simplicity deserved nothing less. 
The bishop, when asked by some one whether he had 
seen it. replied. 4 Yes : Whiten" eld writes like an honest 
man. and has recanted several things ; but he goes on in 
the same way yet.' His lordship also promised a second 
part of his pamphlet, which in due time appeared; but 
as it was mainly directed against Wesley, in Wesley's 
hands Whitefield was content to leave it. 

The bishop was troubled with Methodists in his own 
diocese, and among his own clergv. as well as with those 
itinerants who. like many Catholic 4 enthusiasts,' were 
fond of travelling to make converts. The Eev. Mr. 
Thompson, vicar of St. Gennis was one of these unde- 
sirable 4 sons.' He was an able, vivacious, bold man, 
and, before his adoption of the new views, the favourite 
of rollicking squires, and of brother clerics who cared 
more for the fleece than the sheep. He was somewhat 
restive under prelatical rule : and when Lavington 
threatened him to his face that he would pull off his 
gown. Thompson immediately pulled it off himself, and 
throwing it at the feet of the astounded bishop, ex- 
claimed. ■ I can preach the gospel without a gown.' The 
bishop thought it was best to send for him, and try to 
soothe him. Xext he had the mortification of seeing 
Whitefield welcomed to Thompson's home, from whence 
he had thought to banish him. and the two friends 
fraternising with such cordiality as only men whose 
endangered friendship has stood firm can feel. 

The bishop was not. however, to go without his grati- 
fication. In his presence, and in that of many of his 
clergy. Whitefield was for the fourth time violently 
assaulted while preaching the gospel. The blow of a 
cudgel at Basingstoke, the thump of a sod from a Staf- 



STONED IN THE PRESENCE OF A BISHOP. 



409 



fordshire heathen, and the pelting with the refuse of a 
Moorneld's fair, were followed by a stunning blow from 
a great stone, which struck deep into Whitefield's head, 
and almost rolled him off the table, from which, amidst 
an awful stillness, he was addressing ten thousand hearers. 
A second stone, also meant for him, struck a poor man 
quite to the ground. A third, aimed at the same object, 
fell and did no damage. This was done in the presence 
of the man who had unblushingly repeated the lie, that 
Methodist preachers were often attended with a set of 
sturdy fellows carrying clubs under their clothes, to make 
the congregations reverence their preaching apostle ; nor 
did he mount the table to express his shame and regret 
at being the witness of such an outrage, neither did he act 
the part of the kind Samaritan to the injured man. 
The only alleviating thought to this story is that the 
bishop and his clergy do not seem to have been accessory 
to the assault. Whitefielcl, never wishful to magnify his 
deeds and sufferings, nor to exaggerate another's fault, 
simply says that it was 4 a drunken man ' who threw 
three great stones at him ; but the assailant must have 
been tolerably sober when once he aimed so well as to 
hit his man on the head, and the next time threw with 
such force as to lay a man on the ground ; neither do 
drunken men often manage to carry three large stones 
into a dense crowd. 1 

1 It would have been more becoming a Christian bishop had Dr. Lavington 
tried to reform the heathen of Exeter, instead of wasting his time in slander- 
ing others who did his neglected work. For the sake of truth it should be 
stated that the city had a band of ruffians called ' Church Rabble,' or ' The 
God-damn-me Crew/ who carried persecution to every length short of death. 
In 1745, the crew, led by a bailiff, a sexton, a parish-clerk, and several 
tradesmen, and encouraged by many 'gentlemen,' who placed themselves 
in windows to see the obscene sport, abused the Methodists as they would, 
neither the mayor nor the magistrates interfering to stop them. They kicked 
the men and subjected them to every abuse and indignity. They rubbed 
the faces of the women with lamp-black and oil ; they beat their breasts 
with their clenched fists ; they stripped them almost naked, then turned the 
rest of their clothes over their heads, and in that condition kicked or dragged 



410 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHiTEFIELD. 



Weak and suffering, yet a moral conqueror, Whitefield 
returned to London ; not forgetting on his way to call at 
Dorchester gaol, to comfort John Hayne, a soldier who 
had headed a revival movement among his comrades in 
Flanders, and since his return home had preached in 
Methodist fashion, and been rewarded for his zeal by a 
place among knaves and felons ! 

Whitefield's ' grand catholicon ' under both public and 
domestic trials — preaching — was now used by him with 
unremitting diligence; and in the autumn of 1749 we 
find him in a new district, and amongst a people as dif- 
ferent from those of the west of England as Yorkshire 
moors are different from Devonshire lanes and orchards. 
It was the splendid autumn season when he first clam- 
bered up that steep road 6 winding between wave-like hills 
that rise and fall on every side of the horizon, with a long, 
illimitable, sinuous look, as if they were a part of the line of 
the great serpent, which, the Norse legend says, girdles the 
world ; ' and was received at bleak little Haworth, sacred 
both to piety and genius, by William Grimshaw, the in- 
cumbent. The old parsonage (not the one in which the 
Brontes afterwards lived), standing half a mile from the 
church, and commanding from its windows a wide view 
of the valley of the Worth, and from its door, before the 
present ugly shed was built in front of it, the view of the 
interlacing hills towards Keighley, the sheltered valley at 
their feet, and the swelling moors, traced with winding 
roads, that lie bordering on the moors of Ilkley, was solid 
and weather-beaten, like the sturdy man who then in- 
habited it. I do not know whether his eye often lingered 

them along the street, or rolled them in the gutters or in mud heaps pre- 
pared for them. To save herself from one of the mob who attempted even 
worse outrage, one woman leaped from the gallery of the meeting-house to 
the floor. The riot lasted for hours, and in the presence of thousands. — See 
' An Account of a late Riot at Exeter/ by John Cennick, 1745 ; and 1 A 
brief Account of the late Persecution and Barbarous F/sage of the Methodists 
at Exeter/ by an Impartial Hand, 1746. The riot occurred in 1745 ; La- 
vington's treatise was written in 1747 ; Whitefield was assaulted in 1749. 



WILLIAM GRIMSHAW. 



411 



on the beauty and grandeur that lay around his home ; 
perhaps at the most it would be a hurried glance he 
would give, when he halted for a moment on the door- 
stone, as he went forth to preach, or returned from the 
same duty ; for he was an untiring apostle of the truth, 
and it would be little time that he could find for com- 
munion with nature. His work was to soften and change 
the rugged, hardened sinners of the village and of all the 
district around, as far as his iron strength could carry 
him ; and for that he must only exchange the saddle 
where he made his sermons for the pulpit where he 
preached them. An all-absorbing thing was the enjoy- 
ing and teaching those truths which had turned his own 
soul from sin to holiness, and which had changed a 
clergyman, a mere professional, who entered ' holy orders ' 
with the unholy wish to get the best living he could, 
into a loving shepherd, who sought the lambs and the 
sheep by night and day, in summer and winter, in 
' weariness and painfullness,' nor ever thought of his 
sacrifice, if so be he might save that which was lost. 
Thirty times a week would he preach in cottage or 
church, or on hill-side ; it was an idle week when he 
preached but twelve times. Neither was he satisfied 
simply to preach, to get through his subject ; he would 
dwell with unwearied patience on each part of his mes- 
sage, loving the tenderness and mercy of which it spoke, 
and anxious that the feeblest mind should also love and 
understand it. He wore no 4 cloke of covetousness ; ' he 
used no 6 flattering words ;' he sought no ' glory of men.' 
' Affectionately desirous ' of his people, he would have 
imparted to them not the gospel of God only, but also 
his own soul, because they were dear to him. Truer 
and kinder shepherd never tended flock than this ' over- 
seer"' of the flock of God among the hills. Much has 
been said about his eccentricities, but these were little 
noticed by his people, who lived daily in the light of his 



412 LIFE AXD TEAYELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



shining purity, and received in their every sorrow and 
in their every joy the sympathy of his faithful heart. His 
wonderful visions have been turned against hirn as a 
reproach to his soundness of judgment ; but were visions 
no more talked of than were his by him, and were they 
always connected with such untiring diligence and such 
ungrudging labour as enriched his life, then might we 
pray for men of visions to be quickly multiplied. 

His church always presented a remarkable appearance 
on the Sunday. The shepherding of the week made a 
full fold that day. Weavers and farmers, shepherds and 
labourers, came from the remotest parts of his wild dis- 
trict to hear his words of crrace and truth, and listened as 
if they felt the power of another world resting on their 
spirits. When Whitefield first visited them, which was 
in September 1749, six thousand people stood in the 
churchyard to hear him, and above a thousand com- 
municants approached the table with feelings of awe and 
joy. So great a number could have been collected to- 
gether in this thinly populated district only by a strong 
desire to hear an unequalled preacher, whose fame 
was familiar through the lips of their pastor, and by a 
deep and real interest in the great subjects on which he 
discoursed ; as the congregations at Cambuslang and in 
the American woods were called together. 4 It was,' says 
Whitefield, 6 a great day of the Son of Man.' 

Whitefield paid his first visit to Leeds at the request 
of one of Wesley's preachers and of all Wesley's people ; 
he was welcomed by all, and *had a congregation of ten 
thousand to hear him. About the same time he visited 
Armley, Pudsey, and Birstal. 1 

1 Tradition still retains a story about the preaching at Birstal. Nancy- 
Bowling, a pious old maid of Heckniondwike, who died thirty years ago, at 
the advanced age of eighty, used to tell how the wind blew from Bivstal 
towards Heckmondwike when Whitefield preached, and that his voice could 
be heard on Staincliffe Hill, a mile and a half from where he stood, crying, 
' earth, earth, hear the word of the Lord ! ' The story must have been 
told her ; but most likely she had heard Whitefield preach, as she was ten 
years old when he died. 



WHITEFIELD AND C. WESLEY AT NEWCASTLE. 413 



Proceeding northwards, lie met Charles Wesley re- 
turning from Newcastle, where Methodism had already 
w r on a remarkable triumph, and where he had been con- 
firming the believers. Only two months before, there 
had been some conference between them and Harris 
about union or united effort, which had ended in nothing ; 
it is thus noticed by Charles in his journal : — ' 1749, 
Thursday, August 3. Our conference this week with 
Mr. Whiteneid and Mr. Harris came to nought ; I think 
through their flying off.' The conference may have been 
about the societies founded by Whitefield, which, on 
account of his inaptitude for their management, and dis- 
like of being at the head of any organised body, were 
now an irksome burden. At any rate, it is certain that 
by September, and no doubt before leaving London for 
Yorkshire, he had given over the immediate care of all 
his societies to Harris, that he might be £ a preacher at 
large,' which was the clearest delight of his heart. Yet 
when Charles and he met, somewhere on the great north 
road, Charles immediately turned his horse's head round 
towards Newcastle, and went (a pleasant sight to see) to 
introduce his brother in Christ to the Methodist pulpit in 
that town. Fortunately, Charles, in the exuberance of 
his joy over the happy event, wrote a letter giving an ac- 
count of what took place ; it reflects the highest credit 
upon the spirit in which the three friends were now doing 
their work : — 

'Slieffield ; Sunday morning, October 8, 1749. 
4 My dear Friend, — I snatch a few moments before the people 
come to tell you what you will rejoice to know — that the Lord 
is reviving His work as at the beginning ; that multitudes are 
daily added to His church ; and that Gr. W, and my brother 
and I are one — a threefold cord which shall no more be broken. 
The week before last I waited on our friend George to our 

o 

house in Newcastle, and gave him full possession of our pulpit 
and people's hearts ; as full as was in my power to give. The 
Lord united all our hearts. I attended his successful ministry 



414 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD, 



for some days. He was never more blessed or better satisfied. 
Whole troops of the Dissenters he mowed down. They also are 
so reconciled to us as yon cannot conceive. The world is con- 
founded. The hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice. At 
Leeds we met my brother, who gave honest George the right 
hand of fellowship, and attended him everywhere to our 
societies. Some at London will be alarmed at the news ; but 
it is the Lord's doing, as they, I doubt not, will by-and-by 
acknowledge. My dear friends, Mrs. B. and D., shall have the 
full account not many days hence, if the Lord bless my coming 
in as He has blessed my going out. On the next Lord's day I 
shall rejoice to meet you at His table. Eemember, at all times 
of access, your faithful and affectionate servant in the gospel, 

<C. W.' 

This second visit to Leeds, to which Charles refers, was 
after a ride with Whitefield through part of Lancashire 
and part of Cheshire. It made the established and dis- 
senting clergy very angry, and their churches and chapels 
echoed with the thunder of their displeasure. 

' Brother Charles ' and 8 honest George ' did something 
more at Newcastle than preach ; and the good feeling of 
Wesley at Leeds was more praiseworthy than it looks at 
first sight. They robbed Wesley of a worthy wife, and 
he generously forgave them, though feeling the loss most 
acutely. When Whitefield went to Xewcastle there was 
living in that town an excellent woman, a widow, called 
Mrs. Grace Murray, for whom Wesley felt a strong affec- 
tion, and whom he had engaged to marry early in 
October. Unfortunately for him the lady had a warm 
heart towards John Bennet, another of Wesley's spiritual 
children ; and notwithstanding she had preferred (hardly 
with noble-mindedness) the offer of the great Methodist 
leader to that of the humbler itinerant, when Charles 
Wesley and Whitefield pressed her to marry Bennet, she 
consented, and did so. There can be no doubt that 
Whitefield played but a secondary part in this blamable 
transaction, and that Charles was the real cause of the 



WESLEY AND MRS. GRACE MURRAY. 



415 



marriage with Bermet. His notion seems to have been 
that his brother ought to hold himself free for the work 
of superintending the numerous societies now planted all 
over the country, and that marrying would shackle him ; 
and with this notion Whitefield would readily sympathise, 
although he ought to have known that as marriage had 
not hindered him from taking one journey nor made him 
preach one sermon less, it was quite as likely that 
Wesley could hold on his way with undiminished zeal. 
This much may, perhaps, be said in excuse, that Charles 
Wesley, when he got the cares of a family, did not attend 
to public duties with the same diligence which he showed 
when a bachelor ; and that Whitefield may have felt it 
difficult to leave his wife, as he w T as always obliged to do, 
when he undertook some of his long and trying journeys. 
When Whitefield married it was for the sake of Bethescla, 
where he wanted some one to take charge of the orphans ; 
but a single summer had proved too much for Mrs. 
Whitefield's health, and she was just returned in a very 
feeble state. But when all is admitted, it was unjusti- 
fiable presumption for Charles Wesley and Whitefield to 
interfere with John's approaching nuptials ; and the suc- 
cess of their action was a bitter disappointment to him. 

It was November now, and, says Whitefield, ' indeed 
it begins to be cold abroad.' Winter was warning him 
home to his tabernacle ; so he only called at Sheffield, 
Nottingham and Ashby, on his way southwards. At 
Sheffield he unwittingly gave the Wesleys a most appro- 
priate return for their kindness at Leeds and Newcastle. 
What he did will best appear from the narrative of 
Charles Wesley ; for we can understand his marvellous 
power only as we understand the condition of the society 
in the midst of which he appeared but as a wayfaring 
man, and the difficulties over which it triumphed. There 
is also the greater pleasure in quoting the narrative, 
because the events recorded serve to display the high 



416 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WH1TEFIELD. 



courage which always carried the Wesleys like heroes 
through their dangers. 

' 1743, Wed. May 25th.— In the afternoon I came to the 
flock in Sheffield, who are as sheep in the midst of wolves, the 
ministers having so stirred up the people, that they are ready 
to tear them in pieces. Most of them have passed through the 
fire of stillness, which came to try them, as soon as they tasted 
the grace of the Lord. 

6 At six o'clock I went to the society-house, next door to our 
brother Bennet's. Hell from beneath was moved to oppose us. 
As soon as I was in the desk with David Taylor, the floods 
began to lift up their voice. An officer — Ensign Green — con- 
tradicted and blasphemed. I took no notice of him, and sung 
on. The stones flew thick, hitting the desk and people. To 
save them and the house, I gave notice I should preach out, 
and look the enemy in the face. 

6 The whole army of the aliens followed me. The captain 
laid hold on me, and began reviling. I gave him for answer, 
"A Word in Season; or, Advice to a Soldier;" then prayed, 
particularly for His Majesty King George, and preached the 
gospel with much contention. The stones often struck me in 
the face. After sermon, I prayed for sinners, as servants of 
their master, the devil ; upon which the captain ran at me 
with great fury, threatening revenge for my abusing, as he 
called it, " the King his master." He forced his way through 
the brethren, drew his sword, and presented it to my breast. 
My breast was immediately steeled. I threw it open, and, 
fixing mine eye on his, smiled in his face, and calmly said, 
" I fear Grod, and honour the King." His countenance fell in a 
moment ; he fetched a deep sigh, put up his sword, and quietly 
left the place. 

6 To one of the company, who afterwards informed me, he 
had said, " You shall see, if I do but hold my sword to his 
breast, he will faint away." So, perhaps, I should, had I had 
only his principles to trust to ; but if at that time I was not 
afraid, no thanks to my natural courage. 

6 We returned to our brother Bennet's, and gave ourselves 
up to prayer. The rioters followed, and exceeded in their 
outrage all I have seen before. Those of Moorflelds, Cardiff, 
and Walsall were lambs to these. As there is no king in 



CHARLES WESLEY AT SHEFFIELD. 



417 



Israel — no magistrate, I mean, in Sheffield — every man does as 
seems good in Ms own eyes. Satan now put it into their hearts 
to pull down the society-house ; and they set to their work, 
while we were praying and praising God. It was a glorious 
time with us. Every word of exhortation sunk deep ; every 
prayer was sealed ; and many found the Spirit of glory resting 
on them. 

4 One sent for the constable, who came up, and desired me 
to leave the town, " since I was the occasion of all this dis- 
turbance." I thanked him for his advice, withal assuring him 
" I should not go a moment sooner for this uproar ; was sorry 
for their sakes that they had no law or justice among them ; 
as for myself, I had my protection, and knew my business, as I 
supposed he did his." In proof whereof, he went from us, and 
encouraged the mob. 

6 They pressed hard to break open the door. I would have 
gone out to them, but the brethren would not suffer me. They 
laboured all night for their master, and by morning had pulled 
down one end of the house. I could compare them to nothing 
but the men of Sodom, or those coming out of the tombs ex- 
ceeding fierce. Their outcries often awaked me in the night ; 
yet, I believe, I got more sleep than any of my neighbours. 

'Thursday, May 26th. — I took David Taylor, and walked 
through the open street to our brother Bennet's, with the 
multitude at my heels. We passed by the spot where the 
house stood ; they had not left one stone upon another. Never- 
theless, the foundation standeth sure, as I told one of them, 
and our house, not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. 
The mob attended me to my house with great civility ; but, as 
soon as I was entered the house, they renewed their threatenings 
to pull it down. The windows were smashed in an instant ; 
and my poor host so frightened, that he was ready to give up 
his shield. 

'He had been for a warrant to Mr. Buck, a justice of 
peace, in Rotherham, 1 who refused it him, unless he would 
promise to forsake this way. 

1 The larg-e town of Sheffield, which now numbers about 230,000 inhabi- 
tants, was a small town of 10,000 when Charles Wesley wrote 5 and the 
fine valley — now choked with manufactories — which connects it with 
Rotherham was like the beautifully wooded vale in which Gurth and 
Wamba fed the swine of Cedric the Saxon. 

E E 



418 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



6 The house was now on the point of being taken by storm. 
I was writing within, when the cry of my poor friend and his 
family, I thought, called me out to these sons of Belial. In 
the midst of the rabble, I found a friend of Edward's, with the 
Eiot Act. At their desire, I took and read it, and made a 
suitable exhortation. One of the sturdiest rebels our constable 
seized, and carried away captive into the house. I marvelled 
at the patience of his companions ; but the Lord overawed 
them. What was done with the prisoner I know not ; for in 
five minutes I was fast asleep, in the room they had dismantled. 
I feared no cold, but dropped asleep with that word, " Scatter 
Thou the people that delight in war." I afterwards heard that 
within the hour they had all quitted the place.' 

Three years later Charles Wesley found 6 the hardened 
sinners at Sheffield ' still the same ; and felt himself con- 
strained to warn them from the awful words : 4 Except 
the Lord of hosts had left unto us a very small remnant, 
we should have been as Sodom, and we should have been 
like unto Gomorrah ! ' God filled his mouth with judg- 
ments against them, which he trembled to utter and they 
to hear ; yet he had no deeper satisfaction than that of 
having delivered his own soul. Other labourers toiled, 
and then came Whiten eld, the success of whose preaching 
is thus noticed by Charles Wesley, eighteen months after 
Whitefield's visit : £ At two I rejoiced to meet some of 
our dear children in Sheffield. I encouraged them by 
that most glorious promise — 44 Behold He cometh with 
clouds, and every eye shall see Him." The door has 
continued open ever since Mr. Whitefield preached here, 
and quite removed the prejudices of our first opposers. 
Some of them were convinced by him, some converted, 
and added to the church. " He that escapes the sword 
of Jehu shall Elisha slay." ' 

He was no mighty man, glorying in his strength, who 
won these conquests over fierceness, rage, and hate, but 
one who passed his days in humble watchfulness and de- 
pendence upon heavenly aid. When others were wonder- 



whitefield's graces. 



419 



ing at his unflagging devotion, he was 6 more afraid of de- 
clining in the latter stages of his road than of anything 
else.' There was not a grain of self-satisfaction in him. He 
was hungering and thirsting after simplicity and godly 
sincerity. He was subjecting all personal interests to the 
glory and kingdom of his Lord. 6 If souls were profited he 
desired no more.' Every expense was contracted with 
miserly vigilance, that he might have the more to give to 
the poor, and for the furtherance of the gospel. And in 
every sacrifice made, in every reproach endured, there was 
before his soul the image of his humbled, homeless, suffer- 
ing Redeemer, cheering and reviving and defending him. 
He had struggled upwards to a glorious height of consecra- 
tion and love, yet was he ever mindful of the past, when 
self-will and fear of contempt marred the beauty and 
excellence of his piety, and anxious for the day of his 
final emancipation from sin. ' 0, my dear sir,' he ex- 
claims to a friend, ' this pretty character of mine I did 
not at first care to part with ; 'twas death to be despised, 
and worse than death to think of being laughed at by 
all. But when I began to consider Him who endured 
such contradiction of sinners against Himself, I then 
longed to drink of the same cup ; and, blessed be God, 
contempt and I are pretty intimate, and have been so for 
above twice seven years.' Humility was now one of the 
most conspicuous among all that radiant cluster of virtues 
and graces which crowned his head like stars. 6 that 
I may learn from all I see to desire to be nothing ! ' he 
cries out, ' and to think it my highest privilege to be an 
assistant to all, but the head of none. I find a love of 
power sometimes intoxicates even God's own dear children, 
and makes them to mistake passion for zeal, and an over- 
bearing spirit for an authority given them from above. 
For my own part, I find it much easier to obey than 
govern, and that it is much safer to be trodden under 
foot than to have it in one's power to serve others so. 



E E 2 



420 LIFE AXD TEAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 

This makes me fly from that which at our first setting 
out we are too apt to court. Thanks be to the Lord of 
all lords for taking any pains with ill and hell-deserving 
me ! I cannot well buy humility at too dear a rate.' 

He went to 6 golden seasons ' in London, in the winter 
of 1749-50. Large congregations were gathered together 
in the Tabernacle, at six in the morning. The nobility 
were preached to, and poor people and orphans were not 
forgotten. He tells Lady Huntingdon that he ' hopes 
to write to the poor baker soon ; ' and to Habersham 
at the orphan-house he sends word that he has agreed to 
take 6 little Joseph and his sister,' also that he hears there 
is a little infant besides the other two, and that he would 
willingly have it also, if it could be kept till it was about 
three years old : for, says he, ' I hope to grow rich in 
heaven by taking care of orphans on earth.' Habersham 
is further instructed to let Mrs. V. (probably some widow) 
and the other poor of Savannah reap the benefit of the 
crop, if it answers expectation. ' Pray let one barrel of 
rice be reserved for them.' 

Something, I know not what, excepting the remem- 
brance of the kind treatment which he had received 
from the Wesleys at Newcastle and Leeds, induced him 
to offer to preach in Wesley's chapel. His friendly 
advance was kindly met ; and he preached four or five 
times to large congregations, and administered the sacra- 
ment twice. Wesley also came to the Tabernacle, and 
preached for Whitefield, and administered the sacramen' 
to twelve hundred communicants. 

It was during this winter that Whitefield said some- 
thing to the Countess of Huntingdon about her becoming 
a ' leader ; ' but his language, as now read, without any 
knowledge of what may have passed in private conversa- 
tion, cannot be safely interpreted. He may have meant 
a leader in the sense in which Wesley was one ; but it 
seems inconsistent to be blessing God that he himself was 



LADY CHESTERFIELD AT COURT. 



421 



not a leader, not a head of any party, and at the same 
time to be pleading with another person to assume that 
very position. He may have meant a leader of his 
societies ; but Harris already had charge of them. And 
he may have meant a leader only in the general sense of 
her ladyship's standing forward as a witness for Christ ; 
but that she had done for a long time. Any and every 
construction that can. be put upon the words—' A leader 
is wanting : this honour hath been put on your ladyship 
by the great Head of the church ' — is open to objection ; 
and they all may safely be left in their original obscurity. 

His work among the nobility which was in a fair mea- 
sure satisfying even to him, with his spiritual conceptions 
of the work of God, was now the subject of conversation 
at court, as well as in private circles. The following, 
anecdote, which he communicated to the Countess, will 
show how his friends were observed: he says — 'His 
Majesty seems to have been acquainted with some things 
about us, by what passed in his discourse with Lady 
Chesterfield. The particulars are these : her ladyship 
had a suit of clothes on, with a brown ground and silver 
flowers, which was brought from abroad. His Majesty 
coming round to her, first smiled, and then laughed quite 
out. Her ladyship could not imagine what was the matter: 
At length His Majesty said — "I know who chose that 
gown for you ; Mr. Whitefielcl : and I hear that you 
have attended on him this year and a half." Her ladyship 
answered — "Yes, I have, and like him very well; " but 
after she came to her chair was grieved she had not said 
more ; so that I find her ladyship is not ashamed.' 1 

Earlv in 1750, London was several times shaken with 
earthquakes ; and the state of excitement into which it 

1 Did Whitefield choose the King's coat as well as Lady Chesterfield's 
gown ? For it was ' sober brown, trimmed with lace, and blue cuffs.' 
Perhaps His Majesty took a hint from the quiet taste of the Methodist 
peeress. 



s 



422 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



and other causes threw the people, gave Whitefield the 
grandest opportunity of his life for displaying the fulness 
of his love and the strength of his faith in God. The 
first shocks were felt on the 8th of February, and on the 8th 
of March there came another, at a quarter-past five in the 
morning. There was no more harm done than the rocking 
of the houses and the tumbling down of some chimneys ; 
but men's hearts failed them for fear. There was talking 
about judgment and the last day. A soldier, bolder and 
more fanatical than the rest of the people, announced 
the coming overthrow of a great part of the city on a 
certain night, and of course at the dreariest hour of 
that night, between twelve and one o'clock. Multitudes 
filed the city altogether, while others crowded the fields 
and open places for safety from falling houses. The 
Methodist chapels had enormous congregations, and 
Charles Wesley distinguished himself by preaching to 
them; indeed he was just announcing his text to his 
morning congregation when the shock of March 8 made 
the Foundry tremble as if it would fall, and the women 
and children cry out for terror. Whitefield sought his 
congregation in Hyde Park on the dreaded night of the 
soldier's prediction. He warned and entreated them all 
to prepare for the coming of the Son of Man, an event 
much more stupendous and important than that which 
they now expected every moment to see. Neither moon 
nor star shed any light upon audience or preacher, and 
only one voice was heard in the still darkness, like a 
voice crying in the wilderness. It spoke of mercy and 
judgment, and could hardly have spoken in vain. 

The winter in London had been very trying to White- 
field's health, if refreshing to his heart ; throughout the 
whole of it his body was a daily trial to him, and some- 
times he could ' scarce drag the crazy load along.' It 
was with delight that he saw spring return, and that he 
went off into the west for a time of ranging. He went 



W1IITEFIELD IN THE WEST OF ENGLAND. 423 

with his hands so full of work, and moved so rapidly 
from place to place that he could hardly find time to eat. 
He found it exceedingly pleasant, and hoped now, in his 
Master's strength, ' to begin beginning to spend and be 
spent for Him ! ' Twelve times in six days did he preach 
at Plymouth, and the longer he preached, the greater 
became the congregations, and the mightier his word. 
Still he was not satisfied. He wanted 4 more tongues, 
more bodies, more souls for the Lord Jesus ; ' had he been 
gifted with ten thousand, Christ should have had them all. 

It was inevitable that his flaming zeal, kindled as it 
was by the love of the Lord Jesus, and burning only for 
His glory, should fire all the district through which he 
passed. Gloucester, Bristol, Plymouth, and Cornwall 
right to the Land's End, were all ablaze with religious 
fervour. He seemed to travel in the strength of the 
Holy Ghost, and to be independent of that crazy body 
which had oppressed him in London. Friends were 
jubilant at his coming ; and when he was speaking at 
Bideford, where there was ' one of the best little flocks 
in all England,' the bold vicar of St. Gennis almost fell 
under the mighty power of God which came down upon 
the people. Enemies too were active ; one obscure 
clergyman saying with much self-importance, that as 
Whitefield was coming he must put on his old armour. 
He did put it on, and on the Sunday morning, with 
Whitefield for a hearer — for Whitefield still loved to 
enter as a hearer the church which had done her best to 
silence him as a preacher — delivered himself of some 
hearty abuse from the text, 'Beware of false prophets.' 
The slain evangelist had a congregation of ten thousand 
next morning (Monday) to hear him ! 

Such exertions as he put forth could not fail to do 
him physical mischief. That pain which he felt as he 
came last from Scotland was not inactive ; it new and 
again pierced him, and stayed his headlong pace ; it had 



424 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 

plagued him in London when he was preaching four 
times a day ; and when he was over the first burst of 
effort in the west, and thought himself so much better 
for the change, it returned upon him with increased 
power. He had continued vomitings which 6 almost 
killed him,' he says ; and yet the pulpit was his only 
cure, so that his friends began to pity him less, and to 
leave off that 6 ungrateful caution, " Spare thyself! " ' 

I cannot learn that one day's rest was permitted his 
body, when he returned to London from the west. 
Early in May 1750, he started for Ashby, where Lady 
Huntingdon was lying ill, whom he hoped God's people 
would keep out of heaven as long as possible, by their 
prayers. He had some pleasant interviews with Dod- 
dridge, with Stonhouse (now a clergyman, and not afraid 
to attend Whitefield's preaching in the fields, nor to take 
the evangelist's arm down the street), with Hervey and 
Hartley. At Ashby there began the first of a series of 
little incidents in this town which well illustrate what 
kind of a life his was. ' The kind people of Ashby,' he 
says, 'stirred up some of the baser sort to riot before 
her ladyship's door, while the gospel was preaching ; and 
on Wednesday evening, some people on their return 
home narrowly escaped being murdered. Her ladyship 
has just received a message from the justice, in order to 
bring the offenders before him.' After passing through 
Nottingham, Mansfield, and Sutton, at which places his 
message w^as reverently listened to by vast numbers, 
another rough reception was given him at Eotherham. 
The crier was employed to give notice of a bear-baiting. 
At seven o'clock on a Saturday morning the ' bear ' had 
his congregation round him ; then the drum sounded, 
and several watermen came with great staves to the 
baiting ; the constable was struck ; two of the mobbers 
were apprehended, but afterwards rescued. One of the 
most active opponents of Whitefield at Eotherham, but 



ADVENTURES BY THE WAY. 



425 



afterwards one of his best friends, was one Thorpe, who 
also thought to make merry with his public-house friends 
at the evangelist's expense. He and three others engaged 
to compete, in a public-house, for a wager, at mimicking 
Whitefield. His competitors took their turns first ; then 
he jumped on the table, saying, 4 1 shall beat you all.' 
According to the terms of the contest, he opened the 
bible at haphazard, and took the first text that his eye 
fell upon, which was this, 8 Except ye repent, ye shall all 
likewise perish.' The words pierced his conscience at 
once ; and instead of mimicking, he began to preach in right 
earnest, neither thoughts nor language failing him. His 
audience hung their heads in silence and gloom ; none 
attempted to interrupt him as he went on to make re- 
marks which filled his own mind with amazement and 
terror. His sermon — which he always afterwards affirmed 
was preached by the help of the Spirit of God — ended, 
he descended from the table, and left the room in silence, 
without noticing any one. Afterwards he joined Ingham's 
society, then Wesley's, and finally becoming an Indepen- 
dent, settled as the pastor of the Independent church at 
Masbro'. 1 The people of Bolton rivalled those of Eother- 
ham in rudeness and violence ; a drunkard stood up 
behind Whitefield to preach; and a woman twice at- 
tempted to stab the person who erected the preaching- 
stand in her husband's field. At Newby Cote, from 
whence he wrote the letter detailing the treatment he 
had received at Bolton, he had to append to his letter, at 
seven on the morning after writing it, a postscript which 

1 WhitefielcFs house was often the village inn, and there he was exposed 
to annoyance both from drunkards and gamblers. One night the room in 
which he and a friend slept was next to that in which a set of gamblers 
were carousing ; and their foul language so troubled him that he felt he 
must go and reprove them. In vain did his friend try to dissuade him. He 
went and spoke, but apparently without any effect. When he returned 
and lay down again, his friend said, ' What did you gain by it ? ' 'A soft 
pillow,' he answered, and soon fell asleep. 



42G LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEF1ELD. 

ran thus : 4 This last night Satan hath showed his teeth. 
Some persons got into the barn and stable, and have cut 
my chaise, and one of the horses' tails. What would men 
do, if they could ? ' It was reserved for 8 a clergyman at 
Ulverstone, who looked more like a butcher than a 
minister,' to render the last of those insults which White- 
field bore during this journey. He came with two others, 
and charged a constable to take Whitefield into custody ; 
4 but,' acids Whitefield, 4 1 never saw a poor creature sent 
off in such disgrace.' Thus 4 the poor pilgrim went on ' 
from town to town, from county to county. 

The journey had also its bright side. Sheffield 4 hard- 
ened sinners ' were visibly altered in their looks since 
the last visit, and received the word with such gladness 
that many went away because they could not come near 
enough to hear. The moors around Haworth were 
thronged on Whit Sunday with thousands of people, and 
the church was thrice almost filled with communicants. 
4 It was a precious season,' writes Whitefield. Much of 
his work was done in the circuit of his old friend Ingham 
(now married to Lady Margaret Hastings), and in Ing- 
ham's company and with his assistance. No doubt the 
long-continued and faithful efforts of Ingham, together 
with the indefatigable efforts of the Wesleyan Methodists, 
and of such men as Grimshaw, had well prepared the 
soil. 4 Other men laboured, and he entered into their 
labours ; ' nor does he overlook the fact. 

His motto for the journey — 4 crescit eundo ' — was well 
sustained ; he kept the wheels oiled by action. He found 
that 4 the best preparation for preaching on the Sunday 
was to preach every day in the week.' Increasing in 
power as he went, he reached Edinburgh at the end of 
two months, during which time he had preached more 
than ninety times, and to perhaps as many as one hundred 
and forty thousand people. 

His coming was hailed with joy in Scotland ; larger 



THE HONOURABLE MISS HOTHAM, 



427 



congregations than ever waited on his word ; and results, 
not so striking, but quite as useful, followed his efforts as 
formerly. His general plan was to preach twice every 
day, the first time early in the morning, and the second 
in the evening at six ; but one day he preached thrice, 
and another day four times. This exertion proved too 
much. Ralph Erskine and he met, and shook hands. 
The pamphleteers were quiet ; and many of his enemies 
were glad to be at peace with him. ' The parting was 
rather more affectionate than ever.' he says, 6 and I shall 
have reason to bless God for ever for this last visit to 
Scotland.' 

His active life did not altogether remove him from the 
quiet sphere of an ordinary pastor ; and sometimes we 
find him comforting the dying, and preparing them for 
their change. Such work awaited him on his return to 
England. The Honourable Miss Hotham, daughter of 
Lady Gertrude Hotham, received her last religious teach- 
ing from him, and some account of her last end, as given 
in a letter written by Whitefield, will shed another ray of 
light upon the evangelist and his work. He says — 'I 
think it is now near three weeks since good Lady Ger- 
trude desired me to visit her sick daughter. She had 
been prayed for very earnestly the preceding day, after 
the sacrament, and likewise previous to my visit in Lady 
H.'s room. When I came to her bedside she seemed 
glad to see me, but desired I would speak and pray as 
softly as I could. I conversed with her a little, and she 
dropped some strong things about the vanity of the 
world, and the littleness of everything out of Christ. I 
prayed as low as I could, but in prayer — your ladyship 
has been too well acquainted with such things to call it 
enthusiasm — I felt a very uncommon energy and power 
to wrestle with God in her behalf. She soon broke out 
into such words as these — "What a wretch am I ! " She 
seemed to speak out of the abundance of her heart, from 



428 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEF1ELD. 



a feeling sense of her own vileness. Her honoured 
parent and attendant servant were affected. After prayer 
she seemed as though she felt things unutterable, be- 
moaned her ingratitude to God and Christ, and I believe 
would gladly have given a detail of all her faults she 
could reckon. Her having had a form of godliness, 
but never having felt the power, was what she most 
bewailed. 

4 1 left her : she continued in the same frame ; and 
when Mrs. S. asked her whether she felt her heart to be 
as bad as she expressed herself, she answered — " Yes, 
and worse." At her request, some time after this, I gave 
her the holy communion. A communion indeed it was. 
Never did I see a person receive it with seemingly greater 
contrition, more earnest desire for pardon and reconcilia- 
tion with God through Christ, or stronger purposes of 
devoting her future life to His service. Being weak, she 
was desired to keep lying on her bed. She replied — I 
can rise to take my physic, shall I not rise to pray ? " 
When I was repeating the communion office she applied 
all to herself, and broke out frequently aloud in her 
applying. When I said — "The burden of them is in- 
tolerable," she burst out — 64 Yea, very intolerable : " with 
abundance of such like expressions. When she took the 
bread and wine, her concern gave her utterance, and she 
spake like one that was ripening for heaven. Those 
around her wept for joy. My cold heart also was 
touched ; and I left her with a full persuasion that she 
was either to be taken off soon, or to be a blessing here 
below. I think she lived about a week afterwards. She 
continued in the same frame as far as I hear, and I trust 
is now gone where she will sing the song of Moses and 
of the Lamb for ever and ever. 

' The thought of this comforts good Lady Gertrude, 
and the same consideration, I am persuaded, will have 
the same effect upon your ladyship. Only methinks I 



AMONG HIS FBIENDS. 



429 



hear your ladyship add — " No : I will not stop here. By 
divine grace I will devote myself to Jesus Christ now, 
and give Hira no rest, till I see the world in that light as 
dear Miss Hotham did, and as I myself shall, when I 
come to die. I will follow my honoured mother as she 
follows Jesus Christ, and count the Redeemer's reproach 
of more value than all the honours, riches, and pleasures 
of the world. I will fly to Christ by faith, and through 
the help of my God, keep up not only the form but also 
the power of godliness in heart and life." ' 

The end of 1750 and the beginning of 1751 do not 
appear to have been so stirring as other times in White- 
field's life ; but the fact is that his public labours, numer- 
ous and exhausting as ever, when he was well enough to 
work at all, were considerably overshadowed by personal 
affliction and the affliction of his wife and friends. At 
first, and for some short time after his return from 
Scotland, all was most pleasant and most quiet. He 
looks at home in his house adjoining the Tabernacle 
There he entertains his dearly beloved friend Hervey, 
whose bad health has made a change of air necessary, and 
whom Dr. Stonhouse cannot help with medicine. White- 
field thinks himself the debtor by Hervey 's 6 kindness in 
coming up to be with him.' Wesley too comes up one 
morning to breakfast with him ; and then to pray with 
him. ' His heart,' as Wesley says, 6 was susceptible of 
the most generous and the most tender friendship. I 
have frequently thought that this of all others was the 
distinguishing part of his character. How few have we 
known of so kind a temper, of such large and flowing 
affections ! ' Charles Wesley, too, had the same judgment 
upon this point, and said of him — 

6 For friendship formed by nature and by grace, 
His heart made up of truth and tenderness, 
He lived, himself on others to bestow.' 

It is in the spirit of this beautiful expression of hi :: , 



430 



LIFE AND TEAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



6 It is my comfort that those who are friends to Jesus 
shall live eternally together hereafter,' that he comes in 
from the Tabernacle to enjoy the conversation of his 
friend ; and by and by goes down to Ashby to see the 
Countess and four clergymen who are enjoying her hospi- 
tality. He says that she looks like 6 a good archbishop 
with his chaplains round him.' They have 'the sacra- 
ment every morning, heavenly conversation all day, and 
preaching at night.' He calls this ' living at court in- 
deed.' Nor is the ' heavenly conversation ' without wit 
and pleasantry, for Whitefield was one of the cheerfullest 
of men. ' Strong good sense, a generous expansion of 
heart, the most artless but captivating affability, the 
brightest cheerfulness and the promptest wit,' Toplady 
says, 4 made him one of the best companions in the 
world.' 

But it is only for a few days that we see him spending 
a life so free from the strain of preaching to thousands. 
He is hardly withdrawn from the fields, yet is longing to 
die preaching in them. His favourite caution to ministers 
— c Beware of nestling ' — is never out of mind ; and al- 
though he has won converts in this short stay at Ashby, 
he is soon off to London, and plunged into all the ex- 
citement of his countless labours. 

Two months' work brought on a violent and danger- 
ous fever, which confined him to his room for two weeks. 
He soon was well enough to engage again in his work ; 
but he had thought to have cast anchor in ' the haven of 
eternal rest.' Half regretfully he received the summons 
'to put out to sea again;' but his thought for himself 
was quickly consumed in the old passion of his soul- 
love of others — and he wished that he might five to 
direct them to the haven he had almost sighted. 

His wife, too, was in very delicate health, near her 
third confinement ; and after that event, she still con- 
tinued for some time in a precarious state. Not a word 



ILLNESS OF LADY HUNTINGDON. 



431 



fell from his pen about his third child, which was pro- 
bably still-born. 

Trouble next fell upon Lady Huntingdon, and what 
affected her affected him. She was, indeed, unwell at 
the same time as Whitefield, but in January 1751, she 
became much worse, and he was sent for to see her at 
once. When he arrived at Ashby, he found her some- 
what better, but her sister-in-law, Lady Frances Hast- 
ings, lying dead in the house. What had been his 
feelings during his own affliction, and in what way he 
preferred to die, if he might have any choice, will appear 
from the following letter : — 

1 Ashby Place, January 29, 1751. 

' My very dear Sir, — It is high time to answer your kind 
letter. I am doing it at Ashby, whither I rid post, not knowing 
whether I should see good Lady Huntingdon alive. Blessed be 
Grod, she is somewhat better, and, I trust, will not yet die, but 
live, and abound yet more and more in the work of the Lord. 
Entreat all our friends to pray for her. Indeed she is worthy. 

6 Her sister-in-law, Lady Frances Hastings, lies dead in the 
house. She was a retired Christian, lived silently, and died 
suddenly without a groan. May my exit be like hers ! Whether 
right or not, I cannot help wishing that I may go off in the 
same manner. To me it is worse than death to live to be 
nursed, and see friends weeping about one. Sudden death is 
sudden glory. Methinks it is a falling asleep indeed, or rather 
a translation. But all this must be left to our heavenly Father. 
He knows what is best for us and others. Let it be our care to 
have all things ready. Let the house of our hearts and our 
temporal affairs be put in order immediately, that we may have 
nothing to do but to obey the summons, though it should 
be at evening, cock-crowing, or in the morning. Physicians 
that are always attending on the dying, one would imagine, 
should in a peculiar manner learn to die daily. May this be 
your daily employ ! I believe it is, though, like me, you must 
complain that the old man dies hard. Well, has he got his 
deadly blow ? Die, then, he shall, even that death to which he 
put our Lord. Oh ! that the language of our hearts may 



432 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



always be, " Crucify him — crucify him ! " This is painful ; but 
the Redeemer can help us to bear it. 

' " Thou wilt give strength, Thou wilt give power ; 
Thou wilt in time set free ; 
This great deliverance, let us hope, 
Not for ourselves, but Thee." 

6 1 write this out of the fulness of my heart. You will re- 
ceive it as such, and remember me in the best manner to all 
friends. We have had good times. All glory be to Jesus 
through all eternity I 

'Yours, &c, 

< a. W.' 

Whitefield's preaching this winter was as remarkable 
as on any previous winter for its efficacy in comforting 
mourners, in cheering the faithful, and in converting the 
impenitent. When he finished, and started for Bristol, 
in March, he wrote a characteristic letter to his friend 
Hervey, urging him to come to Lady Huntingdon at 
Bristol ; ' for,' he says, ' she will have nobody to give 
her the sacrament unless you come!' Nevertheless 
Hervey did not obey the summons, because his health 
would not permit him. Whitefield proceeds in his letter : 
4 1 ventured the other day to put out a guinea to interest 
for you. It was to release an excellent Christian, who, 
by living very hard, and working near twenty hours out 
of four and-twenty, had brought himself very low. He 
has a wife and four children, and was above two guineas 
in debt. I gave one for myself and one for you. We 
shall have good interest for our money in another world.' 

This year his mind was much relieved about Georgia, 
because the introduction of slaves was at length per- 
mitted by the government. The pertinacity of those 
who wanted to make money out of their fellow-men out- 
wearied the better feelings and holier principles of those 
who saw in the trade a violation of human rights and a 
political curse ; and free scope was given for the capturr 



SLAVERY INTRODUCED INTO GEORGIA. 



433 



of Negroes in Africa, and for their introduction into 
America. Whitefield's remarks upon his new acquisition 
are too strange, as coming from one who had just helped 
the poor, indebted Christian, to be omitted. They cause 
a sigh of regret that he had never heard of the humane 
efforts of Las Casas to undo the kind of mischief which 
he was about to perpetrate with heart and soul, believ- 
ing it to be a work of God ; for, much as he abhorred 
Eoman Catholicism, there was charity enough in him to 
have learnt a lesson from the fine old Spaniard. ' Thanks 
be to God,' he says, 6 that the time for favouring that 
colony ' — Georgia — 4 seems to be come. I think now is 
the season for us to exert our utmost for the good of the 
poor Ethiopians. We are told, that even they are soon 
to stretch out their hands unto God. And who knows 
but their being settled in Georgia may be over-ruled for 
this great end ? As for the lawfulness of keeping slaves, 
I have no doubt, since I hear of some that were bought 
with Abraham's money, and some that were born in his 
house. And I cannot help thinking, that some of those 
servants mentioned by the apostles in their epistles were 
or had been slaves. It is plain that the Gibeonites were 
doomed to perpetual slavery, and though liberty is a 
sweet thing to such as are born free, yet to those who 
never knew the sweets of it, slavery perhaps may not be 
so irksome. 

6 However this be, it is plain to a demonstration, that 
hot countries cannot be cultivated without Negroes. 
What a flourishing country might Georgia have been, 
had the use of them been permitted years ago ! How 
many white people have been destroyed for want of 
.them, and how many thousands of pounds spent to no 
purpose at all ! Had Mr. Henry ' — Matthew Henry ? — 
' been in America, I believe he would have seen the 
lawfulness and necessity of having Negroes there. And 
though it is true that they are bought in a wrong way 



434 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

from their own country, and it is a trade not to be ap- 
proved of, yet as it will be carried on whether we will 
or not, I should think myself highly favoured if I could 
purchase a good number of them, in order to make their 
lives comfortable, and lay a foundation for breeding up 
their posterity in the nurture and admonition of the 
Lord. You know, dear sir, that I had no hand in bring- 
ing them into Georgia; though my judgment was for it, 
and so much money was yearly spent to no purpose, and 
I was strongly importuned thereto, yet I would not have 
a Negro upon my plantation, till the use of them was 
publicly allowed in the colony.' (Tt will be remembered 
that he 4 had a hand ' in urging on the alteration of the 
law.) 4 Now this is done, dear sir, let us reason no more 
about it, but diligently improve the present opportunity 
for their instruction. The Trustees favour it, and we 
may never have a like prospect. It rejoiced my soul to 
hear that one of my poor Negroes in Carolina was made 
a brother in Christ. How know we but we may have 
many such instances in Georgia ere it be long ? In 
the fall, God willing, I intend seeing what can be done 
towards laying a foundation.' 

How complete and miserable a failure was the attempt 
to unite slavery and Christianity will be seen by and by. 
Meanwhile, we think of the orphans being habituated to 
look upon Negroes as a servile race, of their growing to 
manhood and womanhood educated in the ideas of slave- 
holders, and of their being able to throw over all the 
abominations of the system the reputation of a philan- 
thropist so humane and a saint so sincere and so holy as 
was George Whiteneld ; neither can we forget that every 
man who owned a slave would be able to justify it by 
Whitefield's example. 

On March 30, 1751, Whiteneld writes from Plymouth : 
' I suppose the death of our Prince has affected you. It 
•has given me a shock.' The Prince of Wales counted 



THE PRINCE OF WALES. 



435 



many of Lady Huntingdon's friends among his political 
supporters, and she herself, before her conversion, often 
attended his court. Politics and Methodism had a re- 
mote connexion with each other. Many who assembled 
in the Prince's drawing-room at Leicester House might 
next be seen at Chelsea, or at Audley Street, listening to 
Whitefield. The Countess, however, when she embraced 
the truth and ordered her life according to its law, with- 
drew from fashionable life, and sought her pleasure in 
acts of devotion and in good works. Her absence from 
court was not unnoticed by the Prince ; and inquiring 
one day of Lady Charlotte Edwin where she was, he 
received the laconic, mocking answer : ' I suppose pray- 
ing with her beggars.' The Prince shook his head, and 
turning to Lady Charlotte, said, 4 Lady Charlotte, when I 
am dying, I think I shall be happy to seize the skirt of 
Lady Huntingdon's mantle, to lift me up w r ith her to 
heaven.' 

The Countess was very anxious to know what were 
the religious principles of the Prince toward the close of 
his life ; and, to satisfy herself, wrote to Mr. Lyttleton, 
who had been the Prince's secretary, and was of like 
mind with her ladyship upon religious subjects, making 
inquiries of him. It was but little that could be learned. 
She says, 4 It is certain that he was in the habit of read- 
ing Dr. Doddridge's works, which had been presented to 
the Princess, and has been heard to express his appro- 
bation of them in the highest terms. He had frequent 
argument with my Lord Bolingbroke, who thought his 
Eoyal Highness fast verging towards Methodism, the doc- 
trines of wmich he was very curious to ascertain. His 
lordship told me, that the Prince went more than once 
to hear Mr. Whitefield, with whom he said he was much 
pleased. Had he lived, it is not improbable but Mr. 
Whitefield would have been promoted in some way.' 

From January 1751 to December 1752- there occurred 



436 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

nothing that deserves detailed record in a life like this, 
where effort was generally at the full stretch, and where 
sufferings, both mental and bodily, as well as joys, 
abounded. We are prepared to hear of journeys and 
voyages made with the promptness of a general at the 
head of an attacking army ; and of weariness and sickness 
paid as the price for the risks run. A few pages of 
Whitefield's letters carry us into Wales, where, since 
nothing is said about it, we must imagine what work he 
did ; and into Ireland, where he was received into the 
house of Mr. Lunell, a Dublin banker, and where the 
people welcomed him, everything, apparently, having 
prepared his way. Dublin was soon aroused by his 
earnest words, and 6 Moorfielcls auditories ' rewarded him 
for his toil, as they stood with solemn countenances, like 
men who were hearing as for eternity. Athlone and 
Limerick, where as a hunger-bitten, weary traveller, he 
had preached fourteen years before, next heard his voice. 
Then Waterford and Cork, where he stood unhurt in the 
midst of a populace which had shamefully treated the 
Methodists whom the Wesleys and their helpers had 
gathered into a society. Hundreds in that city prayed 
him to continue among them ; and many Papists pro- 
mised to leave their priests, if he would consent to the 
request ; but their pleading and promising were alike 
ineffectual. He was soon in Dublin again, and as quickly 
away to Belfast and other places in the north. What 
the efforts of the people of Cork and the tears of the 
people of Dublin could not procure — a few days' longer 
stay — the importunity of the people of Belfast won from 
him. The numbers that attended were so large, and the 
prospect of doing good was so promising, that he grieved 
he had not come among them sooner. And all the while 
he had been performing these journeys and labours in 
the heat of summer, and under physical weakness which 
caused violent vomiting, attended with great loss of blood 



ACTIVITY. 



437 



after preaching ! Yet in five days he was at Glasgow, 
in the house of his old friend Mr. Niven, a merchant, 
who lived above the cross. The enthusiasm of Cam- 
buslang days still burned in the hearts of the peasantry 
and the weavers in the country, and by three o'clock in 
the morning many of them were on their way to the 
city, to hear him on the day of his farewell preaching. 
In Edinburgh, whither he went next, the selecter society 
living in the capital evinced, along with the poor and the 
degraded, as strong a desire to receive his message. 
More work brought on more haemorrhage and more 
prostration, until his body was almost worn out. Biding 
recruited him ; and he was no sooner in London than he 
took ship for his fourth voyage to America, his seventh 
across the Atlantic. After spending the winter in 
America, he embarked for his eighth voyage in the 
spring, and was in England preaching and journeying as 
usual through the whole of the summer. He retired 
to London for the winter of 1752 ; but at the end of 
what exertion and triumph did that laborious repose 
come ! His progress through the north of England 
towards London was a sublime march. From Sheffield 
he wrote that since his leaving Newcastle, he had some- 
times scarce known whether he was in heaven or on 
earth. As he swept along from town to town, thousands 
and thousands flocked twice and thrice a clay to hear the 
word of life. ' A gale of divine influence everywhere 
attended it.' He continued his work until he reached 
Northampton, where he took coach for London. No 
wonder that, on his arrival in the city, it seemed as if the 
broken tabernacle of the body must release the ardent 
spirit that quickened it. Moreover, the inner life was as 
intense as the outward was active and busy. 4 0, my 
dear friend,' he exclaims to a correspondent, 4 what 
manner of love is this, that we should be called the 
sons of God ! Excuse me. I must pause awhile. My 



438 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF. GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



eyes gush out with water ; at present they are almost 
fountains of tears. But thanks be to God they are tears 
of love ! ' 

The ties which bound Charles Wesley and Whitefield 
together were as strong, if not stronger, than those which 
united the two brothers. From that morning when they 
first breakfasted together at Oxford to the day when the 
news of Whitefield's death reached Charles, they loved 
each other with surprising tenderness and steadfastness. 
Both of them open, frank, emotional, their souls clave 
to each other in sympathy and confidence. Much as 
Whitefield esteemed and venerated Wesley for his zeal, 
his courage, and his labours, much as he loved him as a 
brother in Christ Jesus, there was a measure of coldness 
and reserve in the older man which repelled him, and 
would not allow him the openness and confidence of 
intercourse which he enjoyed with Charles. Whitefield 
must also have felt the chilling influence of Wesley's im- 
periousness ; whereas Charles was truly a brother, with 
no thought of leading or ruling. It thus happened that 
in all the correspondence before the unfortunate breach, 
Charles manifested the most anxious concern for the 
consequences, while John was self-contained, though 
grieved and wounded. And thus it was that when 
Charles himself was nigh to a breach with his brother, he 
turned for counsel to his friend. 

To what circumstances that threatened rupture was 
owing, there are at present no means of deciding ; the 
letter of Charles to Whitefield was probably destroyed, 
and nothing remains to afford any clue. It is well 
known that immediately after the breach with White- 
field, Charles had some tendency to leave his brother and 
join the Moravians, but that trouble had long gone by. 
The brothers were also somewhat alienated in heart in 
consequence of John's marriage, but that too was a 
thing of the past. The letter of Whitefield, which was 



THREATENED RUPTURE BETWEEN THE WES LEYS. 439 



dated 6 London, Dec. 22, 1752,' must stand alone, and 
make its own impression, which will probably be some- 
thing like this : the brothers had a partial misunder- 
standing with each other, which Whitefield deprecated, 
while he felt that it was not alw T ays easy to keep on good 
terms with the elder one, and that therefore Charles 
might ultimately be compelled to separate from him. 
Nor is it any injustice to say that Wesley was not a man 
with whom it was easy to be on good terms ; for his 
lofty claims must have fretted his brethren, and created 
uneasiness. The letter ran thus : 6 1 have read and pon- 
dered upon your kind letter with some degree of solem- 
nity of spirit. In the same frame I would now sit down 
to answer it. And what shall I say? Eeally I can 
scarce tell. The connexion between you and your 
brother hath been so close and continued, and your 
attachment to him so necessary to keep up his interest, 
that I would not willingly for the world do or say any- 
thing that may separate such friends. I cannot help 
thinking that he is still jealous of me and my proceedings ; 
but, I thank God, I am quite easy about it. I more and 
more find that he who believeth doth not make haste ; 
and that if we will have patience, we shall find that 
every plant which our heavenly Father hath not planted, 
however it may seem to have taken very deep root, shall 
be plucked up. I have seen an end of all perfection, 
and expect it only in Him, where I am sure to find it, 
even in the ever-loving, ever-lovely Jesus. He knows 
how I love and honour you and your brother, and how 
often I have preferred your interest to my own. This, 
by the grace of Grod, I shall still continue to do.' It 
does not need to be added that the evil was averted, and 
that the brothers worked together to the last. 

It was Christmas 1752 when Whitefield wrote this 
letter. Looking round upon the circle of his friends at 
this friendliest season of the year, we miss some kind, 



440 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

familiar faces. His mother's face is not there ; she had 
died a year before, while he was paying his last visit 
to America. Doddridge's face is not there ; he died at 
Lisbon, and the news of his decease followed Whitefield 
to America. Like the soldier on the battlefield, who 
can but drop a word of pity for a fallen comrade and 
lift up a prayer for himself, Whitefield could only say, 
' Dr. Doddridge, I find, is gone ; Lord Jesus, prepare me 
to follow after ! ' The face of 4 good Bishop Benson ' is 
not there ; he died on August 30, 1752. His last days 
verified the remark of the Countess of Huntingdon. 
6 My Lord ! mark my words : when you are on your 
dying bed, Whitefield's will be one of the few ordina- 
tions you will reflect upon with complacence.' On his 
dying bed, he sent. Whitefield a present of ten guineas for 
the orphan-house as a token of his regard, and begged to 
be remembered in his prayers. The face of Whitefield's 
only sister is not there. Her house in Bristol had been 
his home and also his early Sunday morning preaching 
room in that city ; and when she died he believed that 
she had entered into 4 the rest that remains for the people 
of God.' The face of Ealph Erskine is not there. His 
death occurred on November 6, 1752 ; and when the 
intelligence was brought to Ebenezer, he said with great 
emotion, ' And is Ealph gone ? He has twice got the 
start of me ; he was first in Christ, and now he is first in 
glory.' But the start was not a long one ; for Ebenezer 
Erskine was now an old man, and worn with heavy 
labours. On June 2, 1754, he followed his brother 
quietly and gently ; as one sleeping and resting himself 
after toil, he went to his reward. 



441 



CHAPTEE XII. 
1753-1770. 

CHAPEL BUILDING — ATTACKS BY ENEMIES — INFIRMITIES HIS DEATH 

THE RESULTS OF HIS WORK. 

No small portion of the year 1753 was spent by White- 
field in what he called cross-ploughing the land ; and what 
that work was is well enough known without our follow- 
ing him from field to field. But while he thought that 
he was the happiest man who, being fond neither of 
money, numbers, nor power, went on day by day without 
any other scheme . than a general intention to promote 
the common salvation amongst people of all denomina- 
tions, his attention was forcibly called to the work of 
providing a permanent place of worship for his followers 
in London. The churches were as inaccessible to Metho- 
dists as ever ; but had they been open probably few would 
have cared to enter them, for the freedom of the Taber- 
nacle was in their estimation preferable to the unalterable 
forms of the Church. The Tabernacle was still the 
wooden building that was hastily erected at the time of 
the division between the Calvinists and the Arminians. 
The idea of a permanent building seems to have been 
first suggested by the Countess of Huntingdon ; but 
Whitefield was slow to move. In the winter of 1752 
she and Lady Frances Shirley again urged the work upon 
his attention, and this time he was brought to their side, 
and began to collect money. His people responded with 
their usual liberality, and contributed a hundred and 
seventy six pounds on one Sunday. With eleven hundred 



442 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEPIELD. 



pounds in hand, lie. on March 1.1753, laid the first brick 
of the new Tabernacle, which was to be eighty feet 
square, and built around the old place. The ceremony 
was performed with great solemnity, and Whitefield 
preached a sermon from the text — 6 In all places were I 
record my name, I will come unto thee and bless thee.' 
Three months later the Tabernacle was ready to receive 
its congregation ; and he opened it by preaching in it 
morning and evening, to four thousand people or more. 

In the spring of this year AVhitefield came into serious 
collision with the Moravians. The reports of their pro- 
ceedings and of their financial position which he pub- 
lished in ' An Expostulatory Letter ' to Count Zinzendorf, 
were brought to his ears by one whom Peter Bohler 
stigmatises as an apostate ; but there can be no doubt 
that Whitefield had his information from more sources 
than one ; and as Bohler was assailed in the letter, his 
phrase must be somewhat discounted. A man might be 
an apostate from Moravianism, and yet a true witness. 
Whitefield opened his letter with a protestation that a 
real regard for his kin£ and countrv. and a disinterested 
love for his Saviour and his Saviour's church, would not 
let him keep silence longer with respect to the shocking 
things of which he had heard, and the offences which 
had swelled to such an enormous bulk. According to 
the statements which he had received, there had been 
much foolishness and some wickedness practised by the 
Brethren. On Easter- day they would walk round the 
graves of their deceased friends, attended with hautboys, 
trumpets, French-horns, &c. They perfumed their meet- 
ing-rooms to prepare them for the entrance of our Lord. 
They had pictures of particular persons painted and ex- 
posed in their assemblies. They dressed the women with 
knots of particular colours, to indicate whether they were 
married or marriageable, single or widows, together with 
other distinctions that cannot be named. Many of them 



THE CONDITION" OF MORAVIAN ISM. 



443 



were in debt to an enormous amount. Zinzendorf was 
directly taxed with owing sundry persons forty thousand 
pounds. Bohler was charged with some ridiculous follies. 
The Eoyal Exchange rung with the tale, of their money 
delinquencies. Families were ruined by them, or kept 
in anxious suspense. Whitefield, therefore, exhorted 
them to remember their former days, and to return to 
the simpler and holier communion which they had for- 
saken. He warned them that God generally suffers 
4 Babels to be built pretty high ' before He comes down 
to confound the language of the builders ; that if knaves 
are employed, as they commonly are, God's honour is 
concerned to discover them ; and that if any of His 
children are undesignedly drawn into the mischief, He 
will, for their sakes, rebuke the tempter, and make a way 
for them to escape. 

Bohler wrote to Whitefield, and denied the particular 
things with which he had charged him. He also said 
that the Brethren had been charged with faults of which 
they were not guilty, either in whole or in part ; but 
how that denial can be made to agree with Bohler 's 
words to his congregation on April 9, 1753 (fifteen days 
before Whitefield's letter was written), I cannot see : — 
4 Brother Bohler " wished the brethren might attain such 
converse with the Saviour, that all old things might be 
done away thereby, and particularly the guilt any of us 
may have contracted, in these intricate and confused 
times, by want of sufficient love to Him and His blood- 
bought congregation." ' It is true that he does not con- 
fess to any other guilt than that of a declension in love ; 
but the spiritual condition which he deplores testifies of 
other faults. Neither does Whitefield appear to have 
been so rash and heedless as Bohler asserts he was ; for 
even in respect of Bohler's character he had not spoken 
until after some of the Brethren themselves had expressed 
dissatisfaction with their teacher. A month before the 



444 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



appearance of Whitefield's letter, Bohler had refrained 
from communicating at the Lord's table with his church, 
not on account of any condemnation or guilt felt in his 
own mind, but because some of the brethren and sisters 
were not satisfied with him. Even had the Brethren been 
free from all blame, it is evident that when Whitefield 
expostulated with them he had some good reasons for his 
act. But they were not free from blame. Count Zinzen- 
dorf answered Whitefield, with much confidence and not 
a little manifest annoyance, in a letter which no more 
deals with the broad case than does Bohler's. He said — 
'As yet I owe not a farthing of the 40,000/. you are 
pleased to tell me of ; and if your precipitate officious- 
ness should save me and those foreigners you forewarn 
so compassionately from that debt, your zeal would 
prove very fatal to the English friends you pity, it seems, 
no less than the Germans.' How was the salvation of 
the foreigners to prove the ruin of the English ? Because 
they, that is, Zinzendorf, had bound himself for thirty thou- 
sand pounds as a security to help the English Brethren out 
of an alarming difficulty. There was debt, there was the 
danger of imprisonment, there was scandal, just as White- 
field had stated. 

The Count's words, which describe the state of things 
at the end of 1752 and the beginning of 1753, are as 
follows: — C I asked the Lord whether I was to think of 
going to prison. The decision was in the negative. I 
forbade Johannes' writing to Lusatia of my dangerous 
position ; for I was not sure whether my imprisonment 
might not stand in the licence of Satan from our Saviour. 
Ordering my papers to be packed up, I prepared every- 
thing as though I was to go to gaol that afternoon, after 
which I enjoyed a quiet siesta. In the very hour when 
payment was due, and no delay admissible, for London 
seemed to be made of iron, Hockel entered my room 



THE CONDITION OF MORAVIANISM. 



445 



with tears of anguish in his eyes. There was a strange 
conflict going on in my mind. Our Saviour had assured 
me, by means of the 'lot, that I should be able to pay this 
day and in this very hour. It was one peculiar feature 
of my course not to be able to foresee everything, but to 
consign certain things entirely to His wise government ; 
and I had promised Him so to do, as confidingly as if the 
desired help were in my own house. Yet the exercise 
of this kind of faith, just then, was far from being 
agreeable. At this moment Jonas (Weiss) entered the 
room with a letter from Cornelius de Laer, enclosing a 
draft for 1,000/. ; upon seeing which Hockel's tears of 
anguish were changed to those of joy. The imprison- 
ment would have been no disgrace to myself ; the whole 
city knew that the Brethren owed me 30,000/., and that 
my security had saved them from bankruptcy.' On 
Good Friday of the same year fifteen Brethren were in 
danger of imprisonment for debt, but were spared the 
disgrace by the Count's becoming their security to dis- 
charge the debt and interest within four years. 

The fact is that the 4 diaconies ' of England, Holland, 
and Germany were almost bankrupt through foolishly 
attempting work for which they had not the means. 
When the money became due, they often had to give 
securities of the poorest kind. They also, in England at 
least, thoughtlessly misled the Count by not informing 
him of the whole of their liabilities. It was truly a 
' sifting-tirne,' as they called it ; and while they cannot 
be exonerated from grave censure, their ignorance and 
mistaken piety were not corrupted with any admixture of 
dishonesty. 1 

Besides the unsatisfactory replies of Bohler and Zinzen- 
dorf, Whitefield received a letter from a Moravian friend, 

1 ' Memoirs of James Hutton,' &c. By Daniel Bsnham, pp. 265-312 ; 
and Appendix, pp. 501-565. 



446 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WH1TEFIELD. 



to which he wrote a reply, part of which is here tran- 
scribed : — 

4 My dear Man. — Though my wife hath not sent me the 
letter, yet she writes me, 44 That you have sent me a threatening 
one." I thank you for it, though unseen, and say unto thee, if 
thou art thus minded, 44 What thou doest, do quickly." Blessed 
be God, I am ready to receive the most traitorous blow, and to 
confess before God and man all my weaknesses and failings, 
whether in public or private life. I laid my account of such 
treatment before I published my expostulatory letter ; and 
your writing in such a manner convinces me more and more 
that Moravianism leads us to break through the most sacred 
ties of nature, friendship, and disinterested love. But my wife 
says you write, 44 That I am drunk with power and appro- 
bation." Wast thou with me so long, my dear man, and hast 
thou known me no better ? What power didst thou know me 
ever to grasp at ? or what power am I now invested with ? 
Xone that I know of, except that of being a poor pilgrim. And 
as for approbation, God knows I have had little else besides the 
cross to glory in since my first setting out. May that be my 
glory still ! My wife says likewise that you write, 44 The bulk 
of my letter is not truth." So says Mr. Peter B. ; nay, he says 
that all is a he ;" and I hear he declares so in the pulpit. So 
that, whether I will or not, he obhges me to clear myself in 
print : and if he goes on in this manner, will not only constrain 
me to print a third edition, but also to publish the dreadful 
heap that lies behind. My answers to him, the Coimt, and my 
old friend H.. are almost ready. 0, my dear man, let me tell 
thee that the God of truth and love hates lies : and that course 
can never be good which needs equivocations and falsehoods to 
support it. God willing, you shall have none from me. I 
have naked truth. I write out of pure love : and the Lord 
Jesus only knows what unspeakable grief and pain I feel when 
I think how many of my dear friends have so involved them- 
selves. If anything stops my pen. it will be concern for them, 
not myself. I value neither name, nor life itself, when the 
cause of God calls me to venture both. Thanks be to His 
great name. I can truly say that no sin hath had dominion 
over me ; neither have I slept with the guilt of any known, 
unpretended sin lying upon my heart. If you will tell me, I 



ILLNESS OF WESLEY. 



447 



will be obliged to you. In the meanwhile, I wish thee well in 
body and soul, and subscribe myself, my dear John, 

4 Your very affectionate, though injured, friend, 
s For Christ's sake, 

4 GrEORGE WhITEFIELD.' 

His open-air preaching was concluded this year in a 
way too beautiful to be left without notice. He had 
opened in Bristol another chapel, called by the same 
name as that in London, 1 and then started for Somerset- 
shire. He writes, on December 1, that on the Tuesday 
before, he had -preached at seven in the evening to a 
great multitude in the open air ; that all was hushed and 
exceeding solemn ; that the stars shone with great bright- 
ness ; that then, if ever, he had by faith seen Him who 
calls them all by their names ; and that his soul was filled 
with holy ambition, and he longed to be one of those 
wdio shall shine as the stars for ever and ever. His hands 
and body had been pierced with cold ; 6 but what,' he 
asks, ' are outward things when the soul within is warmed 
with the love of God ? ' 

Much and sincerely as he desired his crown and joy, 
it seemed at this time as if another were to precede him. 
His friend Wesley was ill of what the physicians thought 
was galloping consumption. Whitefield pitied the church 
and himself, but not Wesley. He almost grieved to think 
that he must stay behind in * this cold climate,' whilst 
Wesley took • his flight to a radiant throne prepared for 
him from the foundations of the world.' Then again, he 

1 Lord Chesterfield contributed twenty pounds towards the erection of 
the Bristol Tabernacle ; but begged that his name might not appear in any 
way. Sainte Beuve says that he feared ridicule: and very likely that 
feeling made him wish his name to be withheld. He seems also to have 
been afraid of Lady Huntingdon's importunities, and a little impatience with 
her is perceptible. ' Really,' he said, ' there is no resisting your ladyship's 
importunities. It would ill become me to censure your enthusiastic admi- 
ration of Mr. Whitefield. His eloquence is unrivalled, his zeal inexhaust- 
ible ; and not to admire both would argue a total absence of taste, and an 
insensibility not to be coveted by anybody." 



448 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 



thought how ' poor Mr. Charles ' was to be pitied, upon 
whom double work would come. The time was full of 
sorrow ; and it gave Whitefield and the Countess an ex- 
cellent opportunity to serve their friends. The Countess 
and another lady, just arrived in Bath from London, went 
from Bath to Bristol, to inform Charles of his brother's 
dangerous state. He immediately started for London, 
and found John at Lewisham ; he fell on his neck and 
wept. Prayer was now offered in all the Methodist 
societies for the recovery of their great leader ; and 
Charles records that a change for the better came when 
the people were praying for him at the Foundry. Hope, 
however, had been relinquished by all ; and Wesley had 
written his epitaph, which was a longer composition than 
Whitefield had penned for his own tombstone, but similar 
in spirit, Whitefield wrote from Bristol to both the 
brothers, but enclosed John's letter in Charles's. Few 
things reflect more honour upon his warmheartedness 
than these words. 

4 Being unexpectedly brought back from Somersetshire, and 
hearing you are gone upon such a mournful errand, I cannot 
help sending after you a few sympathising lines. The Lord 
help and support you ! May a double spirit of the ascending- 
Elijah descend and rest on the surviving Elisha ! Xow is the 
time to prove the strength of Jesus yours. A wife, a friend, 
and brother ill together. Well, this is our comfort, all things 
shall work together for good to those that love God. If you 
think proper, be pleased to deliver the enclosed. It was 
written out of the fulness of my heart. To-morrow I leave 
Bristol, and purpose reaching London by Saturday morning or 
night. Grlad should I be to reach heaven first ; but faith and 
patience hold out a little longer. Yet a little while, and we 
shall be all together with our common Lord. I commend you 
to His everlasting love ; and am, my dear friend, with much 
sympathy, 

' Yours, &c, 

4 OrEOKGE WHITEFIELD.' 



ILLNESS OF WESLEY. 



449 



To the Reverend Mr. John Wesley. 

' Bristol, December 3, 1753. 

6 Eeverend and very dear Sir, — If seeing you so weak, when 
leaving London, distressed me, the news and prospect of your 
approaching dissolution hath quite weighed me down. I pity 
the church, and myself, but not you. A radiant throne awaits 
you, and ere long you will enter into your Masters joy. Yonder 
He stands with a massy crown, ready to put it on your head 
amidst an admiring throng of saints and angels. But I, poor 
I, that have been waiting for my dissolution these nineteen 
years, must be left behind to grovel here below ! Well, this is 
my comfort, it cannot be long ere the chariots are sent even 
for worthless me. If prayers can detain them, even you, re- 
verend and very dear sir, shall not leave us yet ; but if the 
decree is gone forth that you must now fall asleep in Jesus, 
may He kiss your soul away, and give you to die in the em- 
braces of triumphant love. If in the land of the living, I 
hope to pay my last respects to you next week ; if not, reverend 
and dear sir, farewell ! I prce, sequar, etsi non passibus cequis. 
My heart is too big, tears trickle down too fast, and, I fear, you 
are too weak for me to enlarge. May underneath you be Christ's 
everlasting arms ! I commend you to His never-failing mercy, 
and am, very dear sir, 

4 Your most affectionate, sympathising, and afflicted younger 
4 brother in the gospel of our common Lord, 

6 CrEORGE WhITEFIELD.' 

It will have been noticed from the letter to Charles 
Wesley that Charles's wife was ill, as well as his brother. 
She was seized with srnall-pox in a virulent form, and as 
soon as he could leave London he started for Bristol, to 
wait on her ; while at the same time Whitefield, hastened 
by the entreaties of Lady Huntingdon, went from Bristol 
to London. Lady Huntingdon's friendship for Charles 
Wesley and his wife was of the most practical kind, in- 
ducing her to go twice a day to their house, to wait on 
Mrs. Wesley. It now fell to Whitefield's lot to com- 
municate with Charles respecting the health of Wesley, 

G G 



450 LIFE AND TRAVELS' OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 



and to sympathise with him in his trouble for his wife. 
One of his letters ran thus : — 

' London, December 13, 1753. 
4 My dear Friend, — The Searcher of hearts alone knows the 
sympathy I have felt for you and yours, and what suspense my 
mind hath been in concerning the event of your present cir- 
cumstances. I pray and enquire, enquire and pray again, 
always expecting to hear the worst. Ere this can reach you, I 
expect the lot will be cast either for life or death. I long to 
hear, that I may partake like a friend either of your joy or 
sorrow. Blessed be Grod for that promise whereby we are as- 
sured that " all things shall work together for good to those 
that love Him." This may make us at least resigned, when 
called to part with our Isaacs. But who knows the pain of 
parting, when the wife and the friend are conjoined ? To have 
the desire of one's eyes cut off with a stroke, what but grace — 
omnipotent grace — can enable us to bear it ? But who knows, 
perhaps the threatened stroke may be recalled ? Surely the 
Lord of all lords is preparing you for further usefulness by these 
complex trials. We must be purged, if we would bring forth 
more fruit. Your brother, I hear, is better ; to-day I intended 
to have seen him, but Mr. Blackwell sent me word he thought 
he would be out for the air. I hope Mr. H. is better ; but I 
can scarce mention anybody now but dear Mrs. Wesley. Pray 
let me know how it goes with you. My wife truly joins in 
sympathy and love. Night and day indeed you are remembered 
by, my dear friend, 

'Yours, &c, 

' GrEORGE WHITEFIELD.' 

After continuing in danger for more than twenty days, 
Mrs. Wesley was deemed convalescent by her medical 
attendants ; and when the good news reached Whitefield, 
in a letter from Lady Huntingdon, he at once gave 
private and public thanks for her recovery. Alas ! a 
blow almost as heavy as the loss of Mrs. Wesley now 
fell on Charles ; when the mother was recovering, her 
only child, an infant boy, caught her malady and died. 
The little one bore his uncle's name. 



VISITS LISBON. 



451 



Meanwhile, Wesley disappointed his friends' fears by 
slowly regaining his strength. He who seemed so nigh 
his rest returned to work for almost forty years longer, 
and, among other services, preached the funeral sermon 
of his brother Whitefielcl. It was the cause of sincere 
joy to Whitefielcl to see his fellow-labourers spared to 
stand by his side ; he prayed that the Wesley s might 
both spring up afresh, and their latter end increase more 
and more. ' Talk not of having no more work in the 
vineyard,' he wrote to Charles, 4 1 hope all our work is 
but just beginning. I am sure it is high time for me to 
do something for Him who hath done and suffered so 
much for me. Near forty years old, and such a dwarf ! 
The winter come already, and so little done in the 
summer! I am ashamed ; I blush, and am confounded.' 

This winter of affliction for the Wesleys was one of 
much physical prostration to Whitelield also ; every ser- 
mon, he says, was fetched out of the furnace. When 
spring came he sailed with twenty-two orphans for 
Georgia, via Lisbon. This was his ninth voyage ; and 
his reason for making it by way of Lisbon was that as a 
preacher and a Protestant he might see something of 
the superstitions of the Church of Eome. Lor this pur- 
pose he could have chosen no better season and no better 
place ; he was in time for all the pageantry and activity 
of Easter week. A gentleman of the factory, whose 
brother had received good through Whitefield's preach- 
ing, welcomed the evangelist to his house, and afforded 
him every opportunity of gratifying his wishes. Nor 
were these the wishes of idle curiosity. Whitefielcl 
delighted in travelling for the sake of preaching and also 
for the sake of seeing men and things. He thought that 
it expanded a man's mind to see strange places and fresh 
customs ; and there can be no doubt that his own wide 
charity was due in no small degree to his intercourse 
with men of all classes, of all churches, and of many 



452 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



nations. At first he did not care much for the distinc- 
tions between churches ; and when Quakers, Independents, 
Presbyterians, and Baptists showed him equal kindness 
wherever he travelled, and displayed the great qualities 
of purity and love, he cared yet less. A more impartial 
Christian it would be hard to find. He expected per- 
fection in none, and hailed every tendency to it in all. 
Even Lisbon was to do more than present him with 
things to be hated and shunned. Amid so much that 
was against his judgment and conscience, there were 
things to delight his taste. The singing in St. Domingo 
church by the Dominican friars, while the Queen per- 
formed her devotions there, was ' most surprisingly 
sweet.' The action of the preachers, a great number of 
whom he heard, struck him as most graceful. 4 Vividi 
ocidi, vividce mantis, omnia vivida? He thought, as he 
beheld their impressive gesticulation and heard their 
tender tones, that English preachers, who have truth on 
their side, would do well to be a little more fervent in 
their address, and not let falsehood and superstition run 
away with all that is pathetic and affecting. The city 
was a scene to make him all eye and ear. There were 
images of saints with lanterns burning in front of them, 
and churches hung with purple damask trimmed with 
gold. There were the richest and noblest of the land 
bowing before the gorgeous altars, or hurrying from 
church to church to offer their sacrifices. There was the 
spectacle of the King, attended with his nobles, washing 
the feet of twelve poor men, and of the Queen and her 
royal daughters doing the same thing to twelve poor 
women. There were processions of penitents, headed by 
preaching friars bearing crucifixes in their hands, which 
they held up before the eyes of the devotees as they 
exhorted them to fresh acts of sacrifice. His soul was 
moved with pity as he saw by moonlight one night some 
two hundred penitents, dressed in white linen vestments, 



MRS. WHITEPIELD. 



453 



barefooted, aud with heavy chains attached to their 
ankles, which made a dismal noise as they passed along 
the streets ; some carried great stones on their backs, and 
others dead men's bones and skulls in their hands : most 
of them whipped and lashed themselves with cords, or 
with flat bits of iron. Even in the moonlight the effects 
of their heavy penances could be seen on their red and 
swollen backs. It struck him as a horrible sight, in the 
same church where he so greatly admired the singing, that 
over the great window were the heads of many Jews, 
painted on canvas, who had been condemned by the 
inquisition, and carried out from that church to be burnt. 
' Strange way this of compelling people to come in ! ' he 
exclaimed. ' Such was not thy method, meek and 
compassionate Lamb of God ! But bigotry is as cruel as 
the grave.' The whole time was, as he said, instructive, 
though silent. 

His wife was not with him this voyage, indeed she 
seems to have performed but one long journey with him 
after their marriage. Her health was unequal to the 
trials of an American summer ; and it would have been 
useless for her to have travelled Avith him as a com- 
panion from place to place. He could but leave her to 
her owm resources and to the kindness of his friends — 
not a pleasant position for a wife, but the best in which 
he could place her, unless he relinquished his evangelistic 
work, and that would simply have overturned his whole 
plan of life, and violated his most solemn convictions. 
He implored one of his London friends to visit his wife 
frequently — 'Add to my obligations,' he said, 1 by fre- 
quently visiting my poor wife. Kindnesses shown to 
her in my absence will be double kindnesses.' 

With a family, but not with his wife, he arrived at 
Bethesda, which he found in a flourishing state, as was 
also the colony. He had a hundred and six persons, 
black and white, to provide for and to guide ; and he 



454 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WH1TEFIELD. 

seems to have known the ages and capabilities and con- 
dition of all at the orphan-house, and often to have sent 
specific and peremptory directions concerning particular 
cases. Honour, too, was beginning to come to early and 
faithful colonists. His friend Habersham, who came 
over with him at his first voyage, and to whom he com- 
mitted the temporal affairs of the orphan-house, was now 
appointed secretary to the colony ; afterwards he became 
president of the council and Commons House of Assembly. 
Whitefield himself received from the new college of New 
Jersey, for which he had greatly exerted himself before 
leaving England, the degree of Master of Arts. Alto- 
gether a better reception was given him by the country 
than he had received fourteen years before, and that, as 
we have seen, was gratifying enough. His weaknesses 
still clung to him, that is, his weaknesses of the flesh, 
and from this time he may be considered a confirmed 
invalid who refused to be invalided ; but his strength of 
heart was not at all diminished, and when he got as far 
north as Portsmouth, he said in the quietest way, 4 1 am 
now come to the end of my northward line, and in a day 
or two purpose to turn back, in order to preach all the 
way to Georgia. It is about a sixteen hundred miles' 
journey.' This was he who was ashamed of his sloth 
and lukewarmness, and longed to be on the stretch for 
God ! Yet again, when his ride of two thousand miles 
was ended, and when he had preached for nearly five 
months, he longed to have time to spend in retirement 
and deep humiliation before that Saviour for whom he 
had done so little ! 

Whitefield's tenth voyage was performed in the spring 
of 1755. About two months after his arrival in England 
his friend Cennick died. ' John Cennick,' he said, 4 is 
now added to the happy number of those who see God 
as He is. I do not envy, but want to follow after him.' 
If not a strong Christian, Cennick was a very devout one ; 



DEATH OF JOHN CENNK3L 



455 



and the church cannot forget her indebtedness to him 
for a few good hymns which he added to her treasury. 
Some tender, beautiful lines, headed "-Nunc dimittkj 
were found in his pocket-book when he died ; here are 
some of them : — 

4 1 never am forsaken or alone : 
Thou kissest all my tears and griefs away : 
Art with me all night long, and all the day : 
I have no doubt that I belong to Thee, 
And shall be with Thee to eternity. 
I would not Thee offend — Thou know'st my heart — 
Nor one short day before Thy time depart : 
But I am weary and dejected too, 
let me to eternal Sabbath go.' 

Whitefl eld found the Methodists very lively in England, 
and had the pleasure of hearing that several clergymen 
were preaching those truths which he had done so much 
to propagate. But enemies were also alert. He found 
it difficult to keep clear of collision with Wesley's friends, 
his own admirers and they being, as usual, as careless 
about unneighbourly acts as their leaders were anxious 
to love and serve one another. He also had open and 
dangerous opposition from some ruffians in the metro- 
polis. It was to be expected that one who eclipsed the 
best actors of the day in grace of action and naturalness 
of expression, and who, at the same time, assailed theatre 
going with unsparing severity, would be attacked in turn. 
Slander and falsehood had shot a feeble missile at him 
when he last visited Scotland, but had given him no 
trouble. In Glasgow he warned his hearers to avoid the 
playhouse, which was then only the wooden booth of 
some strolling players, and represented to them the per- 
nicious influence of theatres upon religion and morality ; 
about the same time the proprietor of the booth ordered 
his workmen to take it down. This simple affair was 
thus reported in the 8 Newcastle Journal.' when he got as 



456 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



far south as that town : ' By a letter from Edinburgh we 
are informed that on the 2nd instant, Mr. Whitefield, the 
itinerant, being at Glasgow, and preaching to a numerous 
audience near the playhouse lately built, he inflamed the 
mob so much against it, that they ran directly from before 
him, and pulled it down to the ground. Several of the 
rioters are since taken up, and committed to gaol.' The 
next trouble with admirers of the stage was of a compli- 
cated kind, and it is difficult to say how much they were 
to blame ; for playhouses, a bishop and his vestry, and 
Eoman Catholics, who hated King George, are mingled 
in a ludicrous medley in the story. It is possible to get 
consistency only by supposing that all these hated the 
Methodist for special reasons of their own, and were, by 
this common feeling, banded against him : even hatred of 
the same thing will make enemies 4 wondrous kind ' for a 
season. Some religious people, apparently the Dissenters, 
had built a chapel, called Long Acre Chapel, near the 
playhouses. It was an unconsecrated building, duly 
licensed for preaching ; its minister was the Eev. John 
Barnard, an Independent, one of Whitefield's converts. 
Mr. Barnard asked Whitefield to preach in his chapel 
twice a week, and Whitefield consented to do so on the 
understanding that he might use the liturgy, if he thought 
proper ; for he judged that he might 'innocently preach 
the love of a crucified Eedeemer, without giving any just 
offence to Jew or Gentile, much less to any bishop or 
overseer of the Church of God.' Every one was not of 
his mind. A band of roughs were hired to disturb him 
while he preached, by making a noise with a copper fur- 
nace, bells, drums, &c, at the chapel door. Part of their 
pay came from some gentlemen of the vestry of the 
Bishop of Bangor and Dean of Westminster, Dr. Zachariah 
Pearce; and they did their work to perfection. They 
used more dangerous means of silencing the obnoxious 
preacher than drums ; they threw stones through the 



RIOTS AT LONG ACEE CHAPEL. 



457 



windows at him, and always missed him, though some 
one else suffered ; they rioted at the door, and abused 
him and his congregation as they were leaving the 
chapel. Things were serious, though Whitefield with 
his strong sense of humour called their behaviour 4 a 
serenading from the sons of Jubal and Cain.' An appeal 
made by him to a magistrate procured protection for a 
time. An appeal to Dr. Pearce was less successful ; that 
prelate forbade his preaching in the chapel again ; but 
his inhibition was useless. Whitefield continued his 
work. The bishop's vestry now revived the persecution 
by the mob ; and Whitefield made repeated appeals to 
this exemplary overseer to stay the violence, and he ap- 
pealed in vain ! Several persons were seriously injured ; 
and he himself was threatened with death. Once when 
he entered the pulpit, he found a letter laid upon the 
cushion, which threatened him with 4 a certain, sudden, 
and unavoidable stroke, unless he desisted from preaching 
and pursuing the offenders by law.' It was his determi- 
nation, formed with the advice of some members of the 
government, to prosecute the offenders, that made them 
assail him in this cowardly way ; and it is certain that 
there were some with audacity and wickedness enough 
to give the stroke. For some unusual purpose a man 
followed him into the pulpit of the Tabernacle while the 
Long Acre trouble was at the worst ; and it was generally 
supposed that he was an assassin. Whitefield dared the 
worst, and let the prosecution go on, until its preparation 
to enter the King's Bench terrified his enemies. One of 
them also had previously come under better influences, 
and regretted the part he had taken in paying ruffians 
to commit violence. 

The letters to the Bishop of Bangor are important for 
more" than the information they give of the rioting. They 
give us a last explanation and vindication of the course 
which Whitefield had followed for so many years, and 



458 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

which he followed to his death. The letters of the bishop 
to Whitefield were not published, because Whitefield 
thought that it would be a breach of courtesy to pro- 
claim their contents, and his lordship, fearing exposure, 
had signified his intention to use his right as a peer to 
hinder them from appearing ; but it is easy to see what 
their substance must have been, from the answers they 
received. Dr. Pearce had charged Whitefield with un- 
faithfulness to the Church of England, and the reply was : 
4 For near these twenty years last past, as thousands can 
testify, I have conscientiously defended her homilies and 
articles, and upon all occasions spoken well of her liturgy. 
Either of these, together with her discipline, I am so far 
from renouncing, much less from throwing aside all 
regard to, that I earnestly pray for the due restoration of 
the one, and daily lament the wanton departure of too, 
too many from the other. But, my lord, what can I do ? 
When I acted in the most regular manner, and when I 
was bringing multitudes even of Dissenters themselves to 
crowd the churches, without any other reason being 
given than that of too many followers after me, I was 
denied the use of them. Being thus excluded, and many 
thousands of ignorant souls, that perhaps would neither 
go to church nor meeting-houses, being very hungry 
after the gospel, I thought myself bound in duty to deal 
out to them the bread of life. Being further ambitious 
to serve my God, my king, and my country, I sacrificed 
my affections, and left my native soil, in order to begin 
and carry on an orphan-house in the infant colony of 
Georgia, which, through the Divine blessing, is put upon 
a good foundation. This served as an introduction, 
though without my design, to my visiting the other parts 
of his Majesty's dominions in North America ; and I 
humbly hope that many made truly serious in that 
foreign clime will be my joy and crown of rejoicing in 
the day of the Lord Jesus. 



CANONS AND CREEDS. 



459 



' Your lordship judgeth exceeding right when you say, 
" I presume you do not mean to declare any dissent from 
the Church of England." Far be it from me : no, my 
lord, unless thrust out, I shall never leave her, and even 
then (as I hope whenever it happens it will be an unjust 
extrusion) I shall continue to adhere to her doctrines, 
and pray for the much wished for restoration of her 
discipline, even to my dying day. Fond of displaying 
her truly Protestant and orthodox principles, especially 
when church and state are in danger from a cruel and 
popish enemy, I am glad, my lord, of an opportunity of 
preaching, though it be in a meeting-house ; and I think 
it discovers a good and moderate spirit in the Dissenters, 
who will quietly attend on the Church service, as many 
have done and continue to do at Long Acre Chapel, while 
many, who I suppose style themselves her faithful sons, 
by very improper instruments of reformation, have en- 
deavoured to disturb and molest us.' 

Another extract from the same letter cannot be read 
without great pain by anyone who holds that the accept- 
ance of creeds or the subjection to canons ought to be 
made in simple, literal honesty, without qualifications or 
reservations of any kind. Whitefield's answer to the 
bishop might be irrefragable if treated upon the ground 
on which he placed it ; but truth should not be made 
dependent upon the customs of any class of men, other- 
wise the law of God is made void by human tradition. 
Neither were matters mended by his appealing so 
solemnly to the Almighty, as he did in the following 
words : ' But, my lord, to come nearer to the point in 
hand — and for Christ's sake let not your lordship be 
offended with my using such plainness of speech — I 
would, as in the presence of the living God, put it to 
your lordship's conscience whether there is one bishop or 
presbyter in England, Wales, or Ireland, that looks upon 
our canons as his rule of action? If they do, we are all 



460 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

perjured with a witness, and consequently in a very bad 
sense of the word irregular indeed. When canons and 
other church laws are invented and compiled by men of 
little hearts and bigoted principles on purpose to hinder 
persons of more enlarged souls from doing good, or 
being more extensively useful, they become mere bruta 
fulmina ; and when made use of only as cords to bind 
up the hands of a zealous few, that honestly appear for 
their king, their country, and their God, like the withes 
with which the Philistines bound Samson, in my opinion 
they may very legally be broken. ... As good is done, 
and souls are benefited, I hope your lordship will not 
regard a little irregularity, since at the worst it is only 
the irregularity of doing well.' Impossible as it is to 
withold sympathy from an irregular well-doer, who was 
singled out as the object of pastoral warnings and the 
mark of scoundrels' brickbats, while card-playing, gamb- 
ling, idle clergymen were passed by without rebuke or 
punishment, there is no gainsaying that he was irregular. 
To judge his conscience is not our office ; but it would 
have made one inconsistency the less in his life, had he 
severed himself from a church with which he could hold 
but a nominal connexion so long as he persisted in his 
irregularities ; and it would have been a yet happier 
thing had no church been so rigid in its forms as to make 
the warmest zeal and the tenderest love in its communion 
things which it could not tolerate, and yet remain true to 
its constitution. It is strange when the best Christian 
becomes the most objectionable member of a church. 

Early in 1756, the year which our narrative has now 
reached, a great change passed over Whitefleld's personal 
appearance. The graceful figure, which was familiar on 
many a common and park and market-cross of England, 
which Londoners knew so well as he rapidly walked their 
streets, and country-people recognised as he dashed along 
their lanes, attended by a knot of brethren on horseback, 



PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 



401 



in haste to meet some mighty congregation, or rode slowly 
along, pondering his next sermon or silently communing 
with God — that figure which was associated with the 
godly young man who entranced and awed his country- 
men — was now changed, when he was forty-two years old, 
into the heavy, corpulent, unwieldy form, which en- 
gravers have preserved for us in their likenesses of the 
great preacher. 1 The observation of £ the common people 
who heard him gladly,' has pictured him in happy lines, 
as they knew him in his earlier and in his later days. It 
is the bold and active young preacher whom we see 
when we hear him described by a poor man as one who 
'preached like a lion.' It is the stout man of middle- 
age whom we see when another describes him as 4 a jolly, 
brave man, and sich a look with him.' 2 And no doubt 
his kindly face and rounded form did make him seem 6 a 
jolly, brave man ; ' but the truth is, that this change was , 
owing wholly to disease. It was neither less work nor 
less care that made him seem so hale. As for work, he 
says — 8 1 have been enabled to preach twice and thrice a 
day, to many, many thousands for these two months last 
past. And yet I cannot die. Nay, they tell me I grow 
fat. I dread a corpulent body ; but it breaks in upon 
me like an armed man.' Preaching failed to cure, it 
rather increased, his complaint. When advised by a 
physician to try a perpetual blister for an inflammatory 

1 These likenesses were a great bugbear to him ; he especially disliked 
that in which he is represented with his hands lifted above his head, an 
attitude which he seldom assumed, and but for a moment. He used to say- 
that he should hate himself were he 1 the sour-looking creature ' they re- 
presented him to be. 

2 The words are those of an aged Oxfordshire peasant, and were spoken 
in answer to the question, whether he remembered Whitefield's appearance. 
'Ay, sure/ said he, ' he was a jolly, brave man ; and what a look he had 
when he put out his right hand thus, to rebuke a disturber as tried to stop 
him, under the pear-tree. The man had been very threatening and noisy ; 
but he could not stand the look. Off he rode, and Whitefield said, " There 
he goes : empty barrels make most din." ' 



462 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 



quinsey, lie changed the receipt and tried perpetual 
preaching ; and he vigorously and perseveringly applied 
the same remedy to corpulency, flux, and asthma, but not 
with the same success. He was doomed to carry a heavy 
burden of flesh. 

He had care as well as work. It had been his plan to 
give those who helped at the orphan-house no certain 
income, or a very slender one : he said that if they loved 
him, they would serve him disinterestedly ; he asked 
nothing for his own exhausting toils but food and raiment, 
and judged that others should be equally devoted. This 
surrounded him with sycophants, who pretended to be as 
highminded as he wanted to see them, and who humoured 
his impatience of contradiction, but who at the same time 
served themselves in an underhanded way. He could be 
roughly honest himself, and might well have borne with 
it among the managers of his institution ; the smooth 
deceit which crept into office turned upon him and 
pierced him, when its time came. He thus complains of 
a loss which he suffered : — 4 1 find that poor X. P. is 
engaged, and that some good friends in Carolina have 
been instrumental in drawing him from the care of a 
family, over which I thought divine Providence had 
made him overseer, and where I imagined he intended 
to have abode at least for some years. I know not what 
reason I have given him to suspect my confidence was 
weakened towards him. I could do no more than trust 
him with my all, and place him at the head of my affairs 
and family without the least check or control. Add to 
all this that, notwithstanding the disparity of age, I con- 
sented that he should have my dear friend's sister, with 
whom I thought he might live most usefully and happily 
at Bethesda, if you pleased, as long as you both should 
sojourn here below ; and you know what satisfaction I 
expressed when I took my leave. But it seems my 
scheme is disconcerted, and my family like to be brought 



THE METHODISTS AND THE TOLERATION ACT. 463 

into confusion. Alas! my dear Mrs. C, if this be the 
case, whom can I send that I may hope will continue 
disinterested long ? But, you know, this is not the first 
time that I have been wounded in the house of my 
friends. 

£ I pity Dr. • from the bottom of my heart. Never 

was I wrote to, or served so, by any from Bethesda 
before. Lord Jesus, lay it not to his charge. Lord Jesus, 
suffer us not to be led into temptation. I did not think 
to write so much. I rather choose to spread all before 
Bethesda 's God.' 

When Whitefield had got one permanent chapel in 
London, he began to feel that it would be useful to have 
a second, in another part of the city. The foundation 
stone of Tottenham Court Chapel was accordingly laid 
on May 10, 1756, and the building opened for worship 
on November 7, the same year. It was becoming a 
difficult question for the increasing number of Metho- 
dists, who, like Whitefield and Wesley, nominally adhered 
to the Established Church and called themselves Church- 
men, to determine their standpoint. Churchmen they 
might be in name and spirit and faith, but Churchmen in 
modes of action they were not. As Methodists they 
were no part of the Church of England, neither would 
she recognise them ; yet they were not Dissenters. They 
did not feel the objections of the Independents to Epis- 
copacy ; they did not feel the scruples of Baptists about 
the baptism of infants ; they did not feel the repugnance 
of Quakers to forms and sacraments of every kind ; they 
did not feel the abhorrence of Presbyterians of prelates 
and the liturgy. Neither state nor church had made 
any provision for this new people. The action of the 
church had already been taken ; it now remained for the 
state to determine its mode of procedure. It quietly let 
Methodism fall into the ranks of dissent, politically consi- 
dered. There was a Toleration Act, and the worshippers 



4G4 LIFE AND TEAVELS OF GEOKGE WHITEFIELD. 



in the new tabernacles and chapels that were beginning 
to multiply might avail themselves of its protection. 
Hence it has followed, that this movement which arose at 
Oxford, which was impelled and guided by duly ordained 
clergymen, and which might have crowded the Church 
of England with vast congregations of devout and holy 
people, has become more and more thoroughly identified 
with the oldest and most extreme forms of dissent in this 
land. Whitefield's chapels and those of the Countess of 
Huntingdon are all Independent chapels, the use of the 
liturgy in some of them not hindering either minister or 
congregation from declaring that they regard the union 
of state and church as an unholy alliance, damaging to 
the church and burdensome and useless to the state. 
Even the society which Wesley established, and the 
members of which he so solemnly counselled to abide 
loyal to the church of which he was a minister, has 
gradually gone the way of all dissenting societies ; it has 
also declared firmly that it will not return to the ancient 
fold, to which it has been invited to return. It is thus 
happening that Methodism, which never contemplated 
any severance from the church at all, is actually threaten- 
ing to bring about the dissolution of a bond which has 
existed ever since the Eeformation. Its numbers are 
multiplied by tens of thousands ; its chapels throng every 
town, and stand in every village of England ; its ministers 
and lay preachers and helpers are legion ; the sacra- 
ments of religion, baptism and the Lord's Supper, are 
duly administered within its pale ; its adherents are 
married and buried by their own spiritual teachers. A 
denomination or denominations constituted and managed 
in this way are not likely to long for other pastures and 
another fold. Nor is their unwillingness to be absorbed 
or appended as an auxiliary decreased by some petty 
annoyances, remnants of former days, to which they are 
subjected. Their social disadvantages in villages and 



THE METHODISTS AND THE TOLERATION ACT. 



465 



country districts, and the rudeness which too often shocks 
and pains them at the parish churchyard, where their 
ministers cannot inter their dead when they have been 
baptized according to the forms, and by a clergyman, of 
the Established Church, and where the clergyman will 
not give them Christian burial when they have not been 
so baptized, serve to excite their anger and hostility. 
As Englismen they cannot help asking themselves what 
is their fault, what their sin, that they should be thus 
treated ; and when they see that it is only their love 
of Methodism and their attendance upon its services, 
they cleave all the more closely to their denomination. 
How distant does all this seem to be from the day when 
Whitefield strove to put his new chapel in Tottenham 
Court Eoad under the protection of the Countess of 
Huntingdon, and thus to preserve it for the Church ; and 
when the Countess herself was annoyed at nothing so 
much as at the idea of one of her ministers becoming a 
Dissenter. Berridge of Everton wrote to her twenty 
years after the opening of this chapel, and seven after the 
death of Whitefield, in a strain which shows that even 
at that time, although she had practically been a Dis- 
senter for forty years, she disliked her position, and was 
impatient when anyone tolcl her the bare truth about it. 
But Berridge was an honest man, and minded little how 
anyone resented his plain speaking. His language to the 
Countess was — ' However rusty or rickety the Dissenters 
may appear to you, God hath His remnant among them ; 
therefore lift not up your hand against them for the Lord's 
sake, nor yet for consistency's sake, because your students 
are as real Dissenting preachers as any in the land, 
unless a gown and band can make a clergyman. The 
bishops look on your students as the worst kind of 
Dissenters ; and manifest this by refusing that ordination 
to your preachers which would be readily granted to 
other teachers among the Dissenters.' There are other 

H H 



466 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



passages in the same letter which describe, almost with 
the accuracy of prophecy, the course of future events in 
Methodism and in the Establishment, and which might 
afford food for profitable thought even yet. 

With regard to his new chapel, Whitefield wrote to Lady 
Huntingdon to say that they had consulted the Commons 
about putting it under her Ladyship's protection, and that 
the answer was : 6 No nobleman can license a chapel, or 
in any manner have one put in his dwelling-house ; that 
the chapel must be a private one, and not with doors to 
the street for any persons to resort to at pleasure, for 
then it becomes a public one ; that a chapel cannot be 
built and used as such without the consent of the parson 
of the parish, and when it is done with his consent, no 
minister can preach therein, without licence of the bishop 
of the diocese.' 4 There seems then,' he says, ' to be but 
one way, to license it as our other houses are ; and 
thanks be to Jesus for that liberty which we have.' There 
was the same crush of hearers, when the place was 
opened, as there had been at the Tabernacle. Many 
great people came, and begged that they might have a 
constant seat. A neighbouring physician called it ' White- 
field's soul-trap,' and by that name it was commonly 

known among the foolish scoffers. Among the distin- 
ct o 

guished visitors who were accommodated in Lady Hunt- 
ingdon's pew, Lord Chesterfield might not unfrequently 
be seen ; and once his rigid decorum and self-possession 
were as much overpowered by the eloquence of the 
preacher, as if he had been , a peasant at a Cambuslang 
preaching, or a Welsh miner among a host of his country- 
men shouting fc Gogoniant ! bendith iti I' 1 Whitefield. who 

1 1 At seven of the morning/ says Whitefield, ' have I seen perhaps ten 
thousand from different parts, in the midst of sermon, crying, " Gogunniant, 
hendyitti," ready to leap for joy.' A Welsh friend informs me that White- 
field must have meant, 1 Gogoniant ! bendith iti ! ' i.e. ' Glory ! blessed be 
Thou ! ' The exclamation may still be heard in Calvinistic Methodist 
chapels. 



ACTOES. 



467 



was unrivalled in description, could easily make his 
hearers see with his eyes, and feel with his heart ; and on 
this occasion he was giving a vivid and horrifying picture 
of the peril of sinners. He carried his audience out into 
the night, and nigh to a dangerous precipice, where in the 
feeble light might be seen, dim and staggering, the form 
of an old man, a blind beggar, deserted by his dog. The 
old man stumbles on, staff in hand, vainly endeavouring to 
discover his way. His face is towards the cliff ; step by 
step he advances ; his foot trembles on the ledge ; another 
moment, and he will lie mangled in the valley below; 
when up starts the agonised Chesterfield, crying as he 
bounds forward to save him, ' Good God ! he is gone ! 1 

Oratory so perfect and so exciting could not fail to 
bring some actors among the motley throng that listened 
to it. Foote and Garrick might sometimes be seen side 
by side ; their opinion was that the sermon was preached 
best when preached for the fortieth time. All its weak- 
nesses were cut off, and all its ineffective parts suppressed ; 
all its impressive passages were retained, and improved 
to the uttermost, and his memory holding with unerring 
accuracy what he wished to say, his tone, and look, and 
gesture, were adapted to its utterance with perfect art. 
Yet he was not bound by memory, but seized upon any 
passing circumstance, and turned it to account. The 
heavy thunder-cloud hanging on the horizon, and the 
flash of lightning which rent its bosom were, for his field 
congregations, his most vivid emblems of the coming day 
of wrath. A scoffer's levity would point his stern rebuke ; 
and a penitent's tear seen in some bedimmed eye would 
prompt a word of loving encouragement. 

It was more than the oratorical display which attracted 
to the ' soul-trap ' Shuter, who was pronounced by Gar- 
rick the greatest comic genius he had ever seen. 1 Shuter 
had a warm, kind heart, and must have felt his better 

1 'Life of David Garrick. 5 -By Percy Fitzgerald, vol. i. p. 311. 
ii ii 2 



468 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



nature moved by the humanity of the teaching of White- 
field. It was he who came to the rescue of a remarkable 
play which was rejected by Garrick, Powel, and Colman ; 
Goldsmith thanked him with tears in his eyes for having 
established the reputation of his ' Good Natur'd Man,' 
when they had deemed it unfit for production on the 
stage. 1 He also acted in 4 She Stoops to Conquer.' At 
the time of his first coming to hear Whitefield he was 
acting the part of Bamble in 'The Earn bier.' The name 
of the play tempted Whitefield into that playing upon 
words to which he was somewhat addicted, and in the 
use of which he did not always exhibit the best taste. 
Seeing Shuter sitting in the front of the gallery — they 
were by this time known to each other personally — he 
fixed his eye upon him, and exclaimed in his warm invi- 
tation to sinners to come to the Lord Jesus : 6 And thou, 
poor Bamble, who hast long rambled from Him, come 
thou also. end thy ramblings by coming to Jesus.' 
Shuter went to Whitefield at the close of the service, and 
said to him : ' I thought I should have fainted — how 
could you serve me so?' But neither this pointed ap- 
peal, nor many others to which he listened, succeeded in 
drawing him from his unsatisfying life to a nobler career. 
His part in the production of Goldsmith's plays, which 
appeared two years before Whitefield's death, shows that 
he continued to follow his old calling. There is, how- 
ever, an anecdote told of him which proves that the old 
thoughts and feelings were not extinguished, if they were 
not sufficiently strong to rule him. The Bev. Mr. Kins- 
man, who was an intimate friend of his, and had tried 
hard to wean him from his profession, met him one day 
in Portsmouth, and said to him that he had been preach- 
ing so often, and to such large congregations, that his 
physician advised change of air for his health. ' And I,' 
said Shuter, 4 have been acting till ready to die ; but oh, 

1 Forster's 1 Life and Adventures of Oliver Goldsmith,' p. 458. 



SHUTEB. 



469 



how different our conditions ! Had you fallen, it would 
have been in the service of God ; but in whose service 
have my powers been wasted ? I dread to think of it. 
I certainly had a call once, while studying my part in 
the park, and had Mr. Whitefield received me at the 
Lord's table I never should have gone back ; but the 
caresses of the great, who, when unhappy, want Shuter 
to make them laugh, are too seducing. There is a good 
and moral play to-night ; but no sooner is it over than I 
come in with my farce of "A Dish of all Sorts," and 
knock all the moral on the head.' When his friends 
rated him as a Methodist, because they had seen him 
with Mr. Kinsman, he said : 4 A precious method is mine ; 
no, I wish I were ; if any be right, they are.' Lady Hun- 
tingdon gives us yet another glimpse of this kind-hearted 
actor. Writing from Bath to Lady Fanny Shirley, she 
says : ' I have had a visit from Shuter, the comedian, 
whom I saw in the street, and asked to call on me. He 
was wonderfully astonished when I announced my name. 
We had much conversation ; but he cannot give up his 
profession for another more reputable. He spoke of Mr. 
Whitefield with much affection, and with admiration of 
his talents. He promised to come some other time, when 
he had more leisure for conversation. Poor fellow ! I 
think he is not far from the kingdom.' 

Much has been said of Whitefield's efforts for his 
orphan-house, and of the success with which he pleaded 
its claims ; but let it not be thought that he never sent 
the collection-box round for any other object. He would 
help others when debt and anxiety pressed upon himself ; 
the money which would have freed him was cheerfully 
sent to meet other wants. He often preached for the 
French Protestants in Prussia, who had suffered much at 
the hands of the Eussians, and collected as much as 
fifteen hundred pounds for them. Many of the nobility 
attended his chapels while he was making this effort ; and 



470 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



the King of Prussia sent him his thanks for it. At 
another time he collected in his chapels, on one day, five 
hundred and sixty pounds, for 4 the relief of the German 
Protestants and the sufferers by fire at Boston.' But on 
this occasion he resorted to a strange stratagem. At the 
close of the sermon, he said : 4 We will sing a hymn, 
during which those who do not choose to give their mite 
on this awful occasion may sneak off.' Not one stirred ; 
he then ordered the doors to he closed, and descending 
from the pulpit held the plate himself ! 1 It was a com- 
mon thing to make a collection for the orphan-hospital 
in Edinburgh, when he visited Scotland. He also made 
a levy on the generosity of the Glasgow people, and 
taught them practical charity, as he did all who heard 
him. Franklin's story of the man who borrowed money 
for the collection at Philadelphia, is matched by a story 
of Whitefleld's power in this Scotch city. An officer, 
who knew Whitefleld's influence, laid a wager with 
another who was going to hear him with a prejudiced 
mind, that he would feel himself obliged to give some- 
thing, notwithstanding his dislike. The w^ager was ac- 
cepted ; and the challenged man went to church with 
empty pockets. But Whitefield so moved his heart that 
he was fain to borrow from his neighbour, and his bet 
w T as lost. 

In May, 1757, Whitefield was the most highly honoured 
man in Edinburgh ; the next month he was mobbed and 
stoned in Dublin. Several Scotch towns had previously 
made him a freeman ; and this year he received the 
marked respect of the ministers of the General Assembly, 
and of the Lord High Commissioner. From the aris- 
tocracy of Scotland he went to the Ormond and Liberty 

1 I am not fully satisfied that this anecdote is authentic ; it is inserted here 
upon the authority of 1 Sketches of the Life and Labours of the Key. George 
Whitefield/ issued by the Committee of the General Assembly of the Free 
Church of Scotland. 



STONED IN DUBLIN. 



471 



Boys of Ireland, and at their hands received the last 
violence to which he was to be subjected. He has told 
the tale himself : — 

' Dublin, July 9, 1757. 
£ My dear Friend, — Many attacks have I had from Satan's 
children, but yesterday you would have thought he had been 
permitted to have given me an effectual parting blow. You 
have heard of my being in Ireland, and of my preaching daily 
to large and affected auditories, in Mr. Wesley's spacious room. 
When here last, I preached in a more confined place in the 
week-days, and once or twice ventured out to Oxminton Green, 
a large place like Moorfields, situated very near the barracks, 
where the Ormond and Liberty, that is, High and Low Party, 
Boys generally assemble every Sunday to fight with each other. 
The congregations there were very numerous ; the word seemed 
to come with power ; and no noise or disturbance ensued. This 
encouraged me to give notice that I would preach there again 
last Sunday afternoon. I went through the barracks, the door 
of which opens into the Green, and pitched my tent near the 
barrack walls, not doubting of the protection, or at least the in- 
terposition, of the officers and soldiery, if there should be occa- 
sion. But how vain is the help of man ! Vast was the multitude 
that attended. We sang, prayed, and preached without moles- 
tation ; only now and then a few stones and clods of dirt were 
thrown at me. It being war-time, as is my usual practice, I 
exhorted my hearers not only to fear God, but to honour the 
best of kings ; and, after sermon, I prayed for the success of 
the Prussian arms. All being over, I thought to return home 
the way I came, but, to my great surprise, access was denied ; 
so that I had to go near half a mile from one end of the Green 
to the other, through hundreds and hundreds of Papists, &c. 
Finding me unattended (for a soldier and four Methodist 
preachers, who came with me, had forsook me and fled), I was 
left to their mercy ; but that mercy, as you may easily guess, 
was perfect cruelty. Volleys of hard stones came from all 
quarters, and every step I took a fresh stone struck, and made 
me reel backwards and forwards, till I was almost breathless, 
and all over a gore of blood. My strong beaver hat served me, 
as it were, for a skull-cap for awhile ; but at last that was 
knocked off, and my head left quite defenceless. I received 



472 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOEGE WHITEFIELD. 



many blows and wounds ; one was particularly large and near 
my temples. 1 I thought of Stephen ; and as I believed that I 
received more blows, I was in great hopes that like him I 
should be despatched, and go off in this bloody triumph to the 
immediate presence of my Master. But providentially, a mi- 
nister's house lay next to the Grreen ; with great difficulty I 
staggered to the door, which was kindly opened to and shut 
upon me. Some of the mob in the meantime having broke 
part of the boards of the pulpit into large splinters, they beat 
and wounded my servant grievously in his head and arms, and 
then came and drove him from the door. For a while I con- 
tinued speechless, panting for, and expecting, every breath to 
be my last. Two or three of the hearers, my friends, by some 
means or other got admission ; and kindly, with weeping eyes, 
washed my bloody wounds, and gave me something to smell to, 
and to drink. I gradually revived, but soon found the lady of 
the house desired my absence, for fear the house should be 
pulled down. What to do I knew not, being near two miles 
from Mr. Wesley's place. Some advised one thing, and some 
another. At length, a carpenter, one of the friends that came 
in, offered me his wig and coat, that I might go off in disguise. 
I accepted of, and put them on, but was soon ashamed of not 
trusting my Master to secure me in my proper habit, and threw 
them off with disdain. I determined to go out, since I found 
my presence was so troublesome, in my proper habit. Imme- 
diately deliverance came. A Methodist preacher, with two 
friends, brought a coach ; I leaped into it, and rid in gospel 
triumph through the oaths, curses, and imprecations of whole 
streets of Papists unhurt, though threatened every step of the 
ground. None but those who were spectators of the scene can 
form an idea of the affection with which I was received by the 
weeping, mourning, but now joyful Methodists. A Christian 
surgeon was ready to dress our wounds, which being done, I 
went into the preaching-place, and, after giving a word of ex- 
hortation, joined in a hymn of praise and thanksgiving to Him 
who makes our extremity his opportunity, who stills the noise 

1 Some time after this adventure, when De Courcy, an Irish clergyman, 
visited London, and was introduced to Whitefield, the latter held his head 
downwards, and putting his hand upon a deep scar in it, said, ' This, Sir, I 
got in your country for preaching Christ.' 



BUILDS TWELVE ALMSHOUSES. 



473 



of the waves, and the madness of the most malignant people. 
The next morning I set out for Port Arlington, and left my 
persecutors to His mercy, who out of persecutors hath often 
made preachers. That I may thus be revenged of them is the 
hearty prayer of, 

6 Yours, &c, 

' GrEORGE WhITEFIELD.' 

It is satisfactory to learn from another of his letters 
that the stoning was not in consequence of his having 
spoken against Papists in particular, but for exhorting all 
ranks to be faithful to the Lord Jesus Christ, and to King 
George. His prudence in avoiding unnecessary offence 
was as great as ever. 

To escape the danger of open-air preaching was to 
encounter the danger of ministering in two large chapels 
all the winter through ; and in the winter of 1757-8 
Whitefield suffered so much that he was put upon 4 the 
short allowance,' as he called it, of preaching but once a 
day, and thrice on a Sunday. With so little to do, he 
began to examine things that were near him ; and finding 
that round his chapel there was 4 a most beautiful spot of 
ground,' he designed a plan for building twelve alms- 
houses upon it. Some other 4 good folks ' agreed with 
him, and soon one hundred pounds of the necessary four 
hundred were in his hand. The houses were to be for 
godly widows, who were to have half-a-crown a week 
from the sacrament money. The cost of building them 
was defrayed by private subscriptions, the public being 
kept in ignorance of the scheme until the whole sum was 
promised. In June 1758 the houses received their first 
inmates, and stood as 4 a monument that the Methodists 
were not against good works.' 

The summer travels of 1758 were begun at Gloucester, 
and continued into Wales ; and it is grievous to mark the 
increasing difficulties under which they were undertaken. 
No trifle ever hindered this willing traveller, but he is 



474 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



compelled to say to a friend — £ This tabernacle makes me 
to groan. The one-horse chaise will not do for me : as 
it will not quarter, I am shaken to pieces. Driving like- 
wise wearies me, and prevents my reading ; and if the 
road be bad my servant that rides the fore-horse is 
dirtied exceedingly. I have therefore sent to Mr. S.'s 
about the postchaise, and desired him to beg the favour 
of you, my dear sir, to look at it, and let me know your 
thoughts. This is giving you trouble, but you are my 
friend.' Possibly the weakness of the body added to the 
fervour of the spirit, and increased the interest of the 
congregations. 

When he visited Scotland in 1759, he exhibited his 
disinterestedness in a very marked way, by refusing either 
for himself personally, or for his orphan -house, the estate, 
both money and lands, valued at seven thousand pounds, 
of a Miss Hunter, which she offered him. 

From the account already given of the kindly feeling 
of Shuter the comedian for Whitefield, and of the visits 
paid by the chief of actors to the Tabernacle and Totten- 
ham Court Chapel, it might be supposed that actors were 
among Whitefield 's friends ; that is to say that they 
admired his talents, and respected his character and his 
calling, while refusing to yield to his warnings and 
entreaties to seek another profession ; but such was not 
the case. To be inferior to him in histrionic talent 
would not calm the fretful temper which most of them 
had. Garrick would doubtless have been better pleased 
had the public called Whitefield the Garrick of the 
pulpit, and not himself ' the Whitefield of the stage.' 
He could not always disguise his pleasure when another 
actor was burlesqued and mimicked, and his feelings 
would hardly be more generous towards a Methodist 
preacher. Dr. Johnson, guided no doubt by what he 
saw and knew of the actors of his day, never made a 
truer remark than when he observed that the stage made 



foote's 'mixok,' 



475 



6 almost every other man, for whatever reason, con- 
temptuous, insolent, petulant, selfish, and brutal.' To 
these qualities he might have added, for a description of 
the staff of actors who are the most brilliant in the 
history of the English stage, envious, faithless, deceptive. 
Drury Lane and Covent Garden fought each other in no 
very honourable way ; to strike a cowardly blow at a 
rival was not an unpardonable sin. Gibber, with all her 
tenderness and pathos, could not endure another's success ; 
Macklin was always conceited, selfish, and fierce ; and 
Foote was as savage as he was witty. When they envied 
each other's triumphs, and mimicked each other's manner, 
it was hardly likely that they could refrain from bur- 
lesquing Whitefield, to amuse their audiences, and to 
gratify themselves. It may be something to their credit 
that the scandalous work was undertaken by the most 
unscrupulous of their number. Foote first of all enter- 
tained the playhouse goers by imitating Whitefield's 
appearance and manner of speaking. Finding himself 
so successful he next wrote a comedy, called the ' Minor,' 
which affected to kill Methodism by ridicule, and took 
the chief part in it himself. There is not one happy 
line in it, and it is as destitute of wit as of piety. Its 
immense run in London, where it was acted at both 
theatres, must have been due altogether to Foote's 
acting. There was something in the impudence of the 
opening sentence worthy of both author and performer : 
4 What think you of one of those itinerant field-orators, 
who, though at declared enmity with common sense, 
have the address to poison the principles and, at the 
same time, pick the pockets, of half our industrious 
fellow-subjects ? ' 1 

1 The favourite dish of the pocket-picking Mr. Squintuin, as Foote, al- 
luding to Whitefield's defect, called the greatest of the field-orators, was a 
cow-heel. He would cheerfully say, as he sat down to it, 1 How surprised 
would the world be, if they were to peep upon Dr. Squinturn, and see a 
cow-heel only upon his table.' 



476 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WH1TE7IELD. 

6 1 consider those gentlemen in the light of public 
performers, like myself. Eidicule is the only antidote 
against this pernicious poison.' 

The chief character is Mrs. Cole, or old Moll, a convert 
of Whitefield ; and the colour of her piety appears in 
her offering a book of hymns, a shilling, and. a dram to 
some one, to make him also a convert. Herself she thus 
describes — 'No, no, I am worn out, thrown by and for- 
gotten, like a tattered garment, as Mr. Squintum says. 
Oh, he is a dear man ! But for him, I had been a lost 
sheep ; never known the comforts of the new birth ; no — ' 

These are the least objectionable parts of the pro- 
duction ; its worst are best left alone. 

Whitefield, on hearing of the merriment of the town 
at his expense, simply said — 4 All hail such contempt ! ' 
But his friends were not content to remain inactive. The 
Eev. Mr. Madan wrote to Garrick on the intended repre- 
sentation of the play at Drury Lane. Lady Huntingdon 
waited upon the Lord Chamberlain, the Duke of Devon- 
shire, and applied for its suppression altogether — a most 
proper request, apart from anything that was levelled 
against Methodists ; for its impurity condemned it. Yet 
his lordship could only assure her that had the evil 
tendency of the play been found out before it was 
licensed, licence would have been refused ; as it was, he 
could do nothing immediately. The Countess next 
appealed to Garrick, who promised to use his influence 
in excluding it for the present, and added 4 that had he 
been aware of the offence it was calculated to give, it 
should never have appeared with his concurrence.' 
Nevertheless the offence was continued. 

Foote showed his brutality by bringing the play upon 
the stage at Edinburgh, within two months after White- 
field's death ; but its indecency, combined with the 
heartlessness of caricaturing a man who had never 
entered the city but to bless it, and who was just dead, 



EARL FERRERS. 



477 



emptied the theatre after the first night, and made many 
a pulpit thunder out rebukes. Edinburgh had more 
self-respect than London. 

Whitefield was this same year brought into contact 
with the notorious Earl Ferrers, cousin of Lady Hunting- 
don. When this wild, boastful, reckless peer was tried 
for the murder of his steward, Mr. Johnson, there were 
sitting in the House of Lords a little group of Methodists, 
drawn thither by the regard they had for Lady Hunting- 
don, and the interest they took in all that concerned her. 
George Whitefield and his wife, Charles Wesley and his 
wife, and one Mrs. Beckman, ' a truly good woman,' sat 
side by side, waiting till half-past eleven o'clock for the 
Lords to assemble ; then they saw them enter in great 
state — barons, lords, bishops, earls, dukes, and the Lord 
High Steward. Besides them, there were in the House 
most of the royal family, the peeresses, the chief gentry 
of the kingdom, and the foreign ambassadors. The trial 
over, and the peers having declared their verdict, the 
wretched man was sent for to the bar, to hear from the 
judge the unanimous judgment of all his peers that he 
was guilty of felony and murder. His execution was 
delayed from April 16 to May 5, an interval which he 
spent in careless self-indulgence, so far as he could get 
indulgence, and in total indifference to all the religious 
solicitude shown in his behalf. Lady Huntingdon re- 
strained him a little, and kept him from appearing 
utterly shameless. He twice received Whitefield very 
politely ; but his heart was unmoved. His last words 
before the bolt was drawn were : ' God, forgive me all 
my errors ; pardon all my sins.' 

The Methodists laid themselves open to some criticism 
by the great anxiety which they manifested respecting 
the last words and deeds of men. That the root of it 
was true love for man, there can be no doubt ; it was 
the same feeling which made them so abundant in 



478 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



labours for the healthy and strong ; but they might 
wisely have refrained from laying such emphasis upon 
last utterances. While they did well to leave nothing 
undone to bring the sinner to repentance, they should, 
in all cases where the life had been wicked, have with- 
held an opinion about the final destiny. It is both touch- 
ing and pitiful to see how Lady Huntingdon collected 
evidence respecting the religious opinions of the Prince of 
Wales towards the end of his life ; and it was a terrible 
blow to her and her co-religionists when Earl Ferrers 
remained impenitent to the end, notwithstanding private 
and public prayer offered on his behalf, and all manner 
of entreaties addressed to him. A humble, holy life can 
have but one issue, and all who have lived it may be 
confidently said to be with Christ ; an unholy life, con- 
cluding with a testimony that certain truths have been 
accepted, must have an uncertain issue, so far as we who 
remain can see ; and it is best to be silent about it, 
though we may hope for the best. Some blame may be 
fairly charged as well upon an earnest piety as upon a 
gross superstition, for making last confessions and last 
actions appear in the eyes of many as of more importance 
than daily repentance, daily faith, and daily good works. 

An unusually sad and weary tone is perceptible in 
nearly all Whitefi eld's letters of 1761, nor did he write 
many. For weeks he did not preach a single sermon ; 
the ability to say but a few words was gratefully re- 
ceived as a little reviving in his bondage. He was be- 
ginning to know what nervous disorders are, and was 
thankful when his friends were prudent, and did not 
press him to preach much. His prayer was for resig- 
nation, so long as the Lord Jesus enforced silence upon 
him. As to the cause of his weakness and sickness, he 
thought it was the loss of his usual voyages, which cer- 
tainly had always been an acceptable cessation of the 
toils of preaching, if they often brought the quieter and 



HIS CHAPELS PUT IN TRUST. 



479 



less exhausting toils of writing. Thus he proceeded 
slowly from place to place, getting as far north as Edin- 
burgh, where he had to say, 4 Little, very little can be 
expected from a dying man.' It was his old enjoyment, 
field-preaching, which revived him again. The open sky 
above his head, the expansive landscape, and the sight 
and sound of all nature's charms, refreshed him, as an 
imprisoned Indian would live a new life at the sight and 
touch of the prairie. 4 How gladly would I bid aclieu to 
ceiled houses and vaulted roofs!' he exclaimed, when he 
resumed his open-air work. Yet his revival was only 
temporary ; winter prostrated him as much as ever, and 
he was fain to make arrangements for sailing to America 
the following summer. The condition and wants of 
Bethesda, and his own feeble health, seemed to tell him 
that he must attempt another voyage. He accordingly 
persuaded his friends, Mr. Eobert Keen, a woollen-draper 
in the Minories, and Mr. Hardy, to accept the office of 
trustees to the two London chapels and all his other 
concerns in England. He tolcl them that their com- 
pliance with his request would relieve him of a ponde- 
rous load which oppressed him much. When they 
accepted the responsibility, he entreated Mr. Keen not 
to consult him upon anything, unless absolutely neces- 
sary ; for, he added, 4 the Lord, I trust and believe, will 
give you a right judgment in all things.' In this con- 
fidence he was not mistaken ; his friends proved true to 
him and true to the cause which he served. But before 
we see him on board ship at Greenock, where he em- 
barked for his eleventh voyage, there is an assailant to 
be answered, and a faithful labourer to be laid in his 
grave. 

The assailant was Dr. Warburton, who since 1759 had 
filled the place of 4 good Bishop Benson,' as bishop of 
Gloucester. Where Whitefield had found kindness and 
help, he was now to encounter fierce and uncompro- 



480 LIFE AND TEAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEPIELD. 



mising hostility. Warburton was totally opposed to the 
doctrines of Methodism ; and the success they had gained 
in the land was a sufficient reason for his attempting to 
demolish them. Even before the death of the charitable 
Doddridge, he showed his dislike of ' enthusiasm ' in a 
characteristic way, by rating Lady Huntingdon and 
Doddridge in Lady Huntingdon's house, where he was 
paying the dying man a farewell visit before his de- 
parture for Lisbon. Neither the politeness due from 
guest to hostess, nor the consideration due to a feeble 
friend, could restrain his vehement temper. On another 
occasion, he provoked a skirmish at Prior Park — after- 
wards his own residence — where he met Dr. Hartley, Dr. 
Oliver, Mr. Allen, and Lady Huntingdon. Dr. Hartley 
having spoken in laudatory terms of Whitefield's abilities, 
and respectfully of his doctrines, Warburton remarked, 
fi Of his oratorical powers, and their astonishing influence 
on the minds of thousands, there can be no doubt : they 
are of a high order ; but with respect to his doctrines, I 
consider them pernicious and false.' The conversation 
grew into a debate, and the debate became so warm that 
Warburton, pressed by argument and sorely ruffled in 
temper, hastily left the room, no doubt leaving as many 
marks as he carried with him. He was now to strike a 
heavier and more effective blow at ' the false and per- 
nicious doctrines,' which were spreading and triumphing 
on every hand. 

The Avork he wrote was called a vindication of the 
office and operations of the Holy Spirit from the insults 
of infidelity and the abuses of fanaticism. As by Bishop 
Gibson, at whose hands Warburton had received ordina- 
tion to the priest's office, so by Warburton, the fanatics 
were more warmly assailed than the infidels. Indeed, 
the word used by Warburton is less courteous than 
Gibson's ; with Gibson the Methodists were s enthusiasts ; ' 
with Warburton they are 4 fanatics.' Nay, fanatics on the 



ASSAILED BY BISHOP WARBURTOX. 



481 



title-page is changed into ' fools ' in the preface ; and we 
are treated to an ingenious piece of reasoning to har- 
monise Solomon's seemingly contradictory advice, 'Answer 
not a fool according to his folly, lest thou also be like 
unto him,' and 'Answer a fool according to his folly, lest 
he be wise in his own conceit.' It need hardly be said 
which of these methods a man of the bishop's temper 
would be sure to adopt with infidels and Methodist 
fanatics. True, he says some wise, charitable things in 
the preface about the unwisdom of the defender of 
religion imitating the insulter of it in his modes of 
disputation, which may be comprised in sophistry, 
buffoonery, and scurrility ; but he soon forgot his own 
counsel. It was more than he could do to treat a 
Methodist with fairness or charity. 

His book might have done one great service to the 
Church had it been devoted only to the discussion of a 
question which he introduces as but a stepping-stone to 
his conclusions against the infidels and the fanatics, 
namely, the inspiration of Holy Scripture. His sober, 
thoughtful view of that great subject might have saved 
Christianity from many a reproach, had it been commonly 
adopted by the believers of our faith. But the conclu- 
sion he wanted to reach was something subversive of the 
Methodistical belief concerning the operations of the Holy 
Ghost upon the heart of man ; substantially the same 
view which Bishop Gibson had advanced against ' en- 
thusiasm,' but supported by a greater show of reasoning. 
He says ' On the whole, then, we conclude that all the 
scriptures of the New Testament were given by inspi- 
ration of God ; and thus the prophetic promise of our 
blessed Master, that the Comforter should abide with us 
for ever, was eminently fulfilled. For though, according 
to the promise. His ordinary influence occasionally assists 
the faithful of all ages, yet His constant abode and 
supreme illumination is in the sacred scriptures of the 

I i 



482 



LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



New Testament.' This establishes the first of the two 
points which were to be proved, namely, that the 
Comforter was given (1.) to enlighten the understanding, 
and (2.) to purify and support the will. His light shines 
in the word of God only, and not in our heart ; and this 
word of God is of miraculous production. As to the 
Spirit's action upon the will, that also was miraculous. 
The next point to be settled was, 6 whether, from the 
primitive ages clown to these latter times, the Holy Ghost 
hath continued to exercise either part of His office in the 
same extraordinary manner in which He entered upon it, 
when His descent on the Apostles was accompanied with 
all the sensible marks of the Divinity.' This leads to an 
examination of the thirteenth chapter of the first epistle 
to the Corinthians, from which the bishop seeks to prove 
that after the establishment of the Church by miraculous 
power everything was withdrawn from her excepting 
charity. The reasons for this change in the divine 
working among men are three : First, the minds of the 
Apostles were rude and uninformed, strangers to all 
celestial knowledge; but now we possess the truth, we 
hold the rule of faith. Secondly, 4 the nature and genius 
of the gospel were so averse to all the religious institu- 
tions of the world, that the whole strength of human 
prejudices was set in opposition to it : ' but now, £ what- 
ever there may be remaining of the bias of prejudice (as 
such will mix itself even with our best conclusions), it 
draws the other way.' In view T of this fact, it is absurd 
of the fanatics to speak in their journals as if we lived 
in a land of pagans, with all their prejudices full blown. 
Thirdly, the abatement of the influences of the supporting 
Spirit of grace is due to the peace and security of the 
Church ; the profession of the Christian faith is atteuded 
with ease and honour ; the conviction of human reason 
is abundantly sufficient to support us in our religious 
perseverance. 



WAEBURTON ANSWERED. 



483 



To these views Whitefield wrote an answer, in the form 
of a letter to a friend, which he called 4 Observations on 
some fatal mistakes in a book lately published, and 
entitled, &c.' He fairly and exactly summed up the 
bishop's reasoning by saying that, in effect, it robbed the 
Church of its promised Comforter, and thereby left us 
without any supernatural influence or divine operations 
whatsoever. Left in this forlorn state, and yet told by 
the bishop that charity is the one thing which is to abide 
in the Church for ever, Whitefield asks, with pertinence 
and force — 6 Now can human reason, with all its heights ; 
can calm philosophy, with all its depths ; or moral suasion, 
with all its insinuating arts, so much as pretend to kindle, 
much less to maintain and blow up into a settled, habitual 
flame of holy fire, such a spark as this in the human 
heart ? ' Upon our ability to do without the Holy Ghost 
he remarked with a pungency which Warburton must 
have felt keenly : ' Supposing matters to be as this writer 
represents them, I do not see what great need we have of 
any established rule at all, at least in respect to practice, 
since corrupt nature is abundantly sufficient of itself to 
help us to persevere in a religion attended with ease and 
honour. And I verily believe that the Deists throw 
aside this rule of faith entirely, not barely on account of 
a deficiency in argument to support its authenticity, but, 
because they daily see so many who profess to hold this 
established, self-denying rule of faith with their lips, 
persevering all their lives long in nothing else but an 
endless and insatiable pursuit after worldly ease and 
honour.' He proceeds — ' The scriptures are so far from 
encouraging us to plead for a diminution of divine 
influence in these last days of the gospel because an 
external rule of faith is thereby established, that, on the 
contrary, we are encouraged by this very established rule 
to expect, hope, long, and pray for larger and more 
extensive showers of divine influence than >any former 

i j 9, 



484 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



age hath ever yet experienced.' Warburton fared worse 
at Whitefield's hands, when the manner and language of 
his book and its personal references were dealt with : — 
6 Our author,' says Whitefield, 6 calls the Eev. Mr. John 
Wesley " paltry mimic, spiritual empiric, spiritual mar- 
tialist, meek apostle, new adventurer." The Methodists, 
according to him, are " modern apostles, the saints, new 
missionaries, illuminated doctors, this sect of fanatics. 
Methodism itself is a modern saintship. Mr. Law begat 
it, and Count Zinzendorf rocked the cradle, and the devil 
himself is man-midwife to their new birth." And yet 
this is the man who in his preface to this very book lays 
it down as an invariable maxim " that truth is never so 
grossly injured, or its advocates so dishonoured, as when 
they employ the foolish arts of sophistry, buffoonery, 
and personal abuse in its defence." ' He concluded by 
recommending Warburton and all who hated Methodism 
to seek its extinction by a safer and more honourable 
method than abuse, the method recommended by Bishop 
Burnet for the extinction of Puritan preachers—' Out-live, 
out-labour, out-preach them.' Had the bishop tried that 
way, he might have found that he succeeded ill without 
that heavenly influence which he did his utmost to 
disparage. 

It is not without interest to observe that Whitefield's 
first and last discussion was with a bishop, and upon the 
doctrine of the Holy Ghost. Years of labour had only 
strengthened his persuasion that the Comforter still 
abides personally with believers, and that without His 
action upon the heart no man can be led into the new 
life in Christ Jesus. 

Before Whitefield sails we must notice the death of 
his friend Grimshaw, which occurred on April 7, 1763. 
Whether they met as Whitefield travelled north I can- 
not say ; but it is most probable they did, as Whitefield 
was at Leeds in March, and he seldom got so near 



SOLEMN SCEXES AT HAWOKTH. 



485 



Haworth without affording himself the pleasure of preach- 
ing there. No such startling and appalling, as well as 
happy, effects had ever attended his ministry as were 
felt there. It was as if the very voice of God were 
speaking, when once he cried out to a man who had seated 
himself on the tower of the church, 4 Man, I have a word 
for thee ; ' that man was afterwards found among Grim- 
shaw's converts. More solemn was the effect of his 
words on another occasion. He was standing on the 
scaffold which used to be erected for these outside 
gatherings ; worship had been offered by the congrega- 
tion ; the time for the sermon had come ; all eyes were 
turned upon him and all ears waiting for his first 
words, when he was seen to spend a few moments 
in silent prayer. Silently they waited ; then, looking 
round upon them, he lifted up his hands, and earnestly 
invoked the presence and working of the Holy Ghost. 
A little while longer, and he announced with solemn 
voice and manner the solemn text, 4 It is appointed unto 
men once to die, but after this the judgment.' He 
paused, and while he did so ' a wild shriek of terror 
arose from the midst of the mass.' Some confusion 
followed, but Whitefleld exhorted the people to remain 
still, while Grimshaw pressed into the crowd, to see 
what had happened. Hastening back in a few minutes, 
he said as he approached the scaffold, ' Brother White- 
field, you stand amongst the dead and the dying ; an 
immortal soul has been called into eternity ; the de- 
stroying angel is passing over the congregation ; cry 
aloud, and spare not ! ' The people were then told that 
one of their number had died. A second time the text 
was announced, ' It is appointed unto men once to die.' 
Again, from the spot where Lady Huntingdon and Lady 
Margaret Ingham were standing, arose a second shriek ; 
and a shudder of awe ran through every heart, when it 
was known that a second person had died. Not over- 



486 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



come by the terror of the scene, but strengthened by the 
secret Helper whose grace he had implored, Whitefield 
commenced again, and proceeded, 6 in a strain of tre- 
mendous eloquence ' to warn the impenitent of their 
perilous position. Fear and eager interest were in all 
hearts, as the silent, motionless congregation listened to 
his word ; for had not the decree come forth against two 
souls, and who knew but that it might next come to 
him ? 

Such preaching as this might lead to the opinion that 
Whitefield was always either solemn or vehement ; but 
really no one could have tried more ways than he ; and 
faithful as he was, he was not always faithful enough for 
the stern preacher of the moors. It was common for 
him to expose the mistakes and pretensions of professors 
of religion, and getting on that topic before Grimshaw's 
congregation, it occurred to him that his remarks could 
hardly be appropriate to them ; he therefore proceeded 
to say that as they had long enjoyed the ministry of a 
faithful pastor they must surely be a sincerely godly 
people, when Grimshaw interrupted him, and cried out, 
£ sir, for God's sake do not speak so ; I pray you, 
do not flatter them ; I fear the greater part of them are 
going to hell with their eyes open ! ' 

If Grimshaw was not mistaken in this judgment, 
which was probably spoken early in his ministry, a great 
change must have passed over his congregation through 
his labours. He afterwards assured Eomaine that not 
fewer than twelve hundred were in communion with 
him ; most of whom, in the judgment of charity, he 
could not but believe to be one with Christ. The 
church could not hold the number who sometimes came 
to communicate, and one congregation would withdraw 
for another to fill its place. In one instance, when 
Whitefield was present, thirty-five bottles of wine were 
used in the ordinance. 



DEATH OF GRIMSHAW. 



487 



The complaint which carried Griinshaw off was putrid 
fever, caught by him in visiting his flock, among whom 
it was working most fatally. For one-and-twenty years 
had he proved himself a good minister ; not one soul 
was there in all the district of his travels with whose 
spiritual condition he was unacquainted ; and after lie 
died, no parishioner could hear his name mentioned with- 
out tears. 

It may have been of Grirnshaw that Whitefield was 
specially thinking when he said, ' Others can die, but I 
cannot.' Eeady to fall, as it seemed, yet able to do 
something, he sailed for America the sixth time on June 
4, 1763, and after a twelve weeks' voyage landed in 
Virginia. £ Jesus,' he says, 4 hath made the ship a Bethel, 
and I enjoyed that quietness which I have in vain sought 
after for some years on shore. Not an oath to be heard, 
even in the greatest hurry. All hath been harmony and 
love. But my breath is short, and I have little hopes 
since my last relapse of much further public usefulness. 
A few exertions, like the last struggles of a dying man, 
or glimmering flashes of a taper just burning out, is all 
that can be expected from me. But blessed be God, 
the taper will be lighted up again in Heaven.' 

From Virginia he proceeded northwards to Philadel- 
phia, New York, and Boston ; and was so much strength- 
ened by the cold as to be able to preach thrice a week. 
There was such a flocking of all ranks in New York to 
his preaching as he had never seen there before. It was 
in this city that he gained one of his greatest oratorical 
conquests ; and a comparison of the anecdote with that 
which relates Chesterfield's excitement will serve to show 
his mastery over all classes of people. On this occasion lie 
was preaching before the seamen of New York, 4 when 
suddenly, assuming a nautical tone and manner that were 
irresistible, he thus suddenly broke in with, " Well, my 
boys, we have a clear sky, and are making fine headway 



488 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



over a smooth sea, before a light breeze, and we shall 
soon lose sight of land. But what means this sudden 
lowering of the heavens, and that dark cloud arising from 
beneath the western horizon ? Hark ! Don't you hear 
distant thunder? Don't you see those flashes of light- 
ning ? There is a storm gathering ! Every man to his 
duty ! How the waves arise, and dash against the ship ! 
The air is dark ! The tempest rages ! Our masts are 
gone! The ship is on her beam-ends! What next?'" 
This appeal instantly brought the sailors to their feet 
with a shout, 6 The long boat ! take to the long boat ! ' 

His power to engage the attention of shipbuilders was 
as great as that of exciting sailors, one builder declaring 
that he could build a ship from stem to stern every 
Sunday under the sermon at the parish church, but could 
not get a plank down when Whitefield preached. 

Still, his success was not uniform, only he would have 
success, if it could be gained. If the fault were in his 
own heart, he would pray, while he preached, for help 
from above. If the fault were in his hearers he would 
correct it ; if they were thoughtless, he would charge 
them with it as they sat ; if they were stupid and unin- 
terested, he would ask them whether he was preaching 
to men or to stones. Dr. Young is said to have sat 
down and wept when his royal hearers slept during his 
sermon ; but Whitefield would have done something 
very different, most likely what he did to a small 
American congregation on a rainy day. A curious 
student from Princeton (New Jersey) College was present, 
and has told the story. The first part of the sermon 
made no impression upon the student, and he began to 
say to himself, 6 This man is not so great a wonder after 
all. His ideas are all common-place and superficial — 
mere show, and not a great deal even of that.' The 
congregation seemed as uninterested as himself, one old 
man, who sat in front of the pulpit, having fallen sound 



A SLEEPY HEARER AROUSED. 



489 



asleep ! Whitefield now stopped ; his face darkened with 
a frown ; and changing his tone, he cried out, 4 If I had 
come to speak to you in rny own name, you might rest 
your elbows on your knees, and your heads upon your 
hands, and sleep ; and once in a while look up and say, 
44 What does the babbler talk of?" But I have not 
come to you in my own name. No : I have come to 
you in the name of the Lord of Hosts ' — here he brought 
his hand and foot down with a force that made the 
building ring — 4 and I must and will be heard ! ' The 
congregation started, and the old man awoke. 4 Ay, ay,' 
said Whitefield, fixing his eyes on him, 4 1 have waked 
you up, have I? I meant to do it. I am not come 
here to preach to stocks and stones ; I have come to you 
in the name of the Lord God of Hosts, and I must, and I 
will, have an audience.' There was no more sleeping or 
indolence that day. 1 

Other things besides preaching filled his mind when, 
after a lonsf delay in the north of the colonies, he 
travelled to Bethesda, and reached it, as he had so often 
done before, in time to spend Christmas with the orphans. 
It had long been his wish to add to the orphanage a 
college like New Jersey, for the training of gentlemen's 
sons ; and now, along with the pleasure which he felt in 
seeing the peace and plenty of his cherished retreat, he 
had the satisfaction of thinking that his second project 
would be accomplished. He memorialised the Governor, 
James Wright, Esq., setting forth in his petition that in 
addition to his original plan, which he had carried out 
these many years at great expense, he had long wished 
to make further provision for the education of persons 

1 Garrick, so it is affirmed, used to say that Whitefield could make 
people weep merely by his enunciation of the word Mesopotamia, or by 
the pathos with which he could read a bookseller's catalogue ! Garrick did 
not say that he had ever seen this feat performed : he surely must have 
been befooling some too warm admirer of the preacher, to see how much 
he could believe. 



490 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



of superior rank, who might thus be fitted for usefulness, 
either in church or state ; that he witnessed with pleasure 
the increasing prosperity of the province, but saw with 
concern that many gentlemen, who would have preferred 
having their sons educated nearer home, had been obliged 
to send them to the northern provinces ; that a college 
in Georgia would be a central institution for the whole of 
the southern district, and might even count upon many 
youths being sent from the British West India Islands 
and other parts ; that a considerable sum of money was 
soon to be laid out in purchasing a large number of 
Negroes, for the further cultivation of the orphan-house 
and other additional lands, and for the future support of 
6 a worthy, able president, professors, and tutors, and 
other good purposes intended ; ' he therefore prayed his 
Excellency and the members of His Majesty's Council to 
grant him in trust two thousand acres of land on the north 
fork of Turtle Eiver, or lands south of the river Altamaha. 
This memorial was supported by an earnest 4 Address of 
both Houses of Assembly,' which bore the signature of 
James Habersham as president. His Excellency gave a 
favourable answer, and referred the matter to the home 
authorities. 

It was necessary, therefore, for Whitefield to return to 
England, and watch the progress of his idea there. The 
accounts of the orphan-house had been audited before 
the Honourable Noble Jones (not an unknown name in 
this life), and it was found that all arrears were paid off ; 
and that there were cash, stock, and plenty of all kinds 
of provision in hand. There was no danger, for at least 
a year, of any going back. This lifted a great load off 
Whitefield's mind ; and when the day of his departure 
came, he had ' a cutting parting.' 'And now,' he said, 
' farewell, my beloved Bethesda ! surely the most delight- 
fully situated place in all the southern parts of America. 
What a blessed winter have I had ! Peace, and love, and 



CHANGED TO AN OLD MAN. 



491 



harmony, and plenty, reign here.' But the pilgrim spirit 
was not dead in him ; he was still an evangelist. Not 
long after his departure for the north, he declared that 
his pilgrim kind of life was the very joy of his heart; 
and that a ' little bit of cold meat and a morsel of bread 
in a wood, was a most luxurious repast,' for the presence 
of Jesus was all in all, whether in the city or the 
wilderness. 

Work and sickness had wrought a striking change in 
Whitefield's appearance when he ended his twelfth voyage. 
That his health must have been grievously broken is 
evident from his touching appeal to his friends Keen and 
Hardy: ' Stand, my friends,' he said, ' and insist upon my 
not being brought into action too soon. The poor old 
shattered barque hath not been in dock one week, for a 
long while. I scarce know what I write. Tender love 
to all.' Asthma had now firmly seated itself in his 
constitution, and he felt sure that he should never 
breathe as he would, till he breathed in yonder heaven. 
Wesley was painfully struck when he met him towards 
the close of the year in London. ' I breakfasted,' he 
says in his journal, 4 with Mr. Whitefield, who seemed to 
be an old, old man, being fairly worn out in his Master's 
service, though he has hardly seen fifty years ; and yet it 
pleases God that I, who am now in my sixty-third year, 
find no disorder, no weakness, no decay, no difference 
from what I was at five-and-twenty, only that I have 
fewer teeth and more grey hairs.' A month later 
Wesley again wrote in his journal — ' Mr. Whitefield called 
upon me. He breathes nothing but peace and love. 
Bigotry cannot stand before him, but hides its head 
wherever he comes.' 

The silver cord was not even yet to be loosed, although 
the body appeared to be ready for the grave, and the 
soul for heaven. Lady Huntingdon was increasing the 
number of her chapels. She had one at Brighton, which 



492 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

was partly due to Wakefield's preaching under a tree 
behind the White Lion Inn ; she had another at Norwich ; 
and a third at Tunbridge Wells ; and when she had got 
one finished at Bath, Whitefield must needs open it. He 
went and preached one of the sermons on October 6, 1765. 
It was a chapel in which many of the witty and the learned 
were to hear his expositions of truth. It had also a 
strange corner, called ' Nicodemus's Corner,' into which 
Lady Betty Cobbe, daughter-in-law of the Archbishop of 
Dublin, used to smuggle bishops, whom she had per- 
suaded to go and hear Whitefield, but who did not want 
to be seen in such a place as an unconsecrated chapel. 
The curtained seats just inside the door were both con- 
venient and secret. 1 

It had once been a cherished object with Wesley to 
form 4 an active and open union ' between all Methodist 
clergymen, of whom there were about forty in the Church 
of England ; but his plan, when submitted to them, was 
not adopted, and he was obliged to stand in his singular 
position as the head of his society. Something more 
practical came of a kind of union between himself, his 
brother, Whitefield, and Lady Huntingdon, which was 
suggested by the Countess. When he was preaching in 
Scotland and the north of England, an earnest request 

came to him at Eotherham, from , ' whose heart,' 

he says, ' God has turned again, without any expectation 
of mine,' praying him to come to London. 4 If no other 
good result from it,' he says, c but our firm union with 
Mr. Whitefield, it is an abundant recompense for my 
labour. My brother and I conferred w 7 ith him every 
day ; and, let the honourable men do what they please, 
we resolved, by the grace of God, to go on hand in hand, 
through honour and dishonour.' The fruit of the union 
was first gathered in the Countess's chapel at Bath, where, 



1 Were these pews the originals of those abominable curtained pews 
which may yet be seen in some Dissenting chapels? 



A THREEFOLD CORD. 



493 



to the surprise of many, Wesley preached to a large and 
serious congregation, and fully delivered his own soul. 
Walpole was one of the hearers, and thought that 
Wesley was 4 wondrous clever, but as evidently an 
actor as Garrick ! ' An equally kind reception was 
given to Wesley by Whitefield's friends, when he reached 
Plymouth. He was invited to preach in the Tabernacle 
in the afternoon ; and in the evening he was offered the 
use of Whitefield's room at the dock, but large as it was, 
it could not hold the congregation. 

The references of Charles Wesley to this union are as 
warm, or warmer than those of his brother. He writes 
to his wife to tell her, among other things, that his 
brother had come. 4 This morning,' he says, 4 we spent 
two blessed hours with Gr. Whitefield. The threefold 
cord, we trust, will never more be broken. On Tuesday 
next my brother is to preach in Lady Huntingdon's 
chapel at Bath. That and all her chapels (not to say, as 
I might, herself also) are now put into the hands of us 
three.' It was a time when the two sections of Metho- 
dism strove for the mastery in brotherly love. Whitefield 
4 was treated' — such is Charles Wesley's language — 4 most 
magnificently by his own begotten children, for his love 
to us.' 

The Countess was nothing behind in kindliness. A 
letter from her to Wesley, dated September 14, 1766, 
ran thus : 4 1 am most highly obliged by your kind offer 
of serving the chapel at Bath during your stay at Bristol ; 
I mean on Sundays. It is the most important time, being 
the height of the latter season, when the great of this 
world are only in the reach of the sound of the gospel 
from that quarter. The mornings are their time ; the 
evenings the inhabitants chiefly. I do trust that this 
union which is commenced will be for the furtherance of 
our faith and mutual love to each other. It is for the 
interest of the best of causes that we should all be found, 



494 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

first, faithful to the Lord, and then to each other. I find 
something wanting, and that is a meeting now and then 
agreed upon that you, your brother, Mr. Whitefield and 
I, should at times be glad regularly to communicate our 
observations upon the general state of the work. Light 
might follow, and would be a kind of guide to me, as I 
am connected with many.' 

One, not less kind, not less broad in charity than any, 
was silent upon the union. It was all that Whitefield 
could do to preach occasionally, and watch over the 
interests of Bethesda ; others must chronicle passing 
events. 

And how was the plan for a college at Bethesda pros- 
pering ? First of all Whitefield waited a long time, to 
give the home authorities the fullest opportunity of 
maturing their thoughts ; but by delay they intended 
hindrance, not help. He .therefore memorialised His 
Majesty, praying that since the colonists were deeply 
interested in the scheme, and were impatiently waiting 
for information, something might be done. Now came 
the intricacies of ' red-tape.' The original memorial of 
Whitefield, supported by the ; Address ' of the colonial 
Houses of Assembly, was remitted to the Lords Commis- 
sioners for Trade and Plantations, and they sent it to the 
Archbishop of Canterbury, who effectually frustrated its 
intention by a bigoted demand that the charter of the 
college, were one granted, should contain a clause making 
it obligatory to appoint none but a member of the Church 
of England to the office of head master. To this demand 
Whitefield offered respectful but uncompromising oppo- 
sition. He had no objection to the election of such a 
master, provided the wardens chose him freely ; indeed 
his preference went that way, but rather than bind the 
wardens, there should be no college at all. Whitefield 
showed himself to be as far advanced on this subject of 
college constitution and management as the most liberal 



RELIGIOUS LIBEKTY AND EQUALITY. 



495 



men of a century later. He would have no exceptional 
privilege for a churchman ; he would not have the daily 
use of the liturgy enjoined ; he would not have one doc- 
trinal article entered in the charter. His letter to the 
archbishop stating and defending his views is as noble 
and catholic a production as ever came from his pen, 
while its references to himself and his toils are as pathetic 
as they are modest. Why did he object to a compulsory 
clause respecting the master? Was he opposed to the 
Church of England? By no means : the majority of the 
wardens were sure to be of that communion, and their 
choice would be sure to fall upon a master like them- 
selves in belief ; but choice and compulsion were very 
different things. Did he dislike the liturgy ? No : he 
loved it, and had injured himself by his frequent reading 
of it in Tottenham Court Chapel ; moreover, it had been 
read twice every Sunday in the orphan-house from the 
day of the first institution of the house. Did he disbelieve 
the doctrinal articles ? No : on the contrary, his accepta- 
tion of them was as literal and honest as man could give, 
and he had preached and upheld them everywhere. 1 The 
whole question turned upon freedom or compulsion. As 
for the orphan-house, Whitefield thought that an insti- 
tution to which Dr. Benson had made a dying bequest 
and for which he had offered his dying prayers, had some 
claim upon the archbishop also ; and as for himself he 
had no ambition to settle as the first master of the college ; 
his ■ shoulders were too weak for the support of such an 
academical burden, his capacity by no means extensive 
enough for such a scholastic trust.' To be a presbyter at 
large was the station to which God had called him for 

1 The last time he was in America, that is, the time when his memorial 
was written, he had strongly recommended the homilies to a large audience 
in one of the ' politest places on the continent,' probably Philadelphia or 
Boston ; and the next day numbers went to the stores to purchase them. 
The store-keeper was puzzled with the word, and asked his customers what 
muslms they meant, whether they were not hummimsf 



496 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

thirty years ; and now his only ambition was that the last 
glimmerings of an expiring taper might guide some 
wandering sinners to the knowledge of the Lord Jesus 
Christ. 

All that he could say could not move either the 
archbishop or the Lord President ; for was not the 
memorialist a Methodist? and was he not pleading for 
liberty of thought and action ? In reply to their remarks 
upon the disputed points, Whitefield said that, in ad- 
dition to all the reasons already given, his reputation for 
truthfulness was at stake, and he might not trifle with it. 
From the first, whenever he had been asked 6 upon what 
bottom the intended college was to be founded,' he had 
repeatedly and readily replied, 4 Undoubtedly upon a 
broad bottom ; ' he had even gone so far as to say from 
the pulpit that it should be upon 4 a broad bottom and 
no other ; ' and how could he now withdraw from his 
word ? More than that, most of the money which he 
had collected for the orphan-house had been given by 
Dissenters, and could he be so basely ungrateful as to 
deny them admission to the very place which their libe- 
rality had created and sustained ? If it were asked by 
what warrant he had said that the college should stand 
only on a liberal charter, he replied, 4 Because of the 
known, long-established, mild, and uncoercive genius of 
the English Government ; because of his Grace's mode- 
ration towards Protestant Dissenters ; because of the 
unconquerable attachment of the Americans to toleration 
principles ; because of the avowed habitual feelings and 
sentiments of his own heart.' He wrote as feeling that 
his very piety and salvation were involved in the position 
he assumed, and his last words to the archbishop are well 
worth preserving : 4 If I know anything of my own heart,' 
he said, 4 1 have no ambition to be looked upon at pre- 
sent, or remembered for the future, as a founder of a 
college ; but I would fain, may it please your Grace, act 



EXPULSION OF STUDENTS FROM OXFORD. 497 

the part of an honest man, a disinterested minister of 
Jesus Christ, and a truly catholic, moderate presbyter of 
the Church of England. In this way, and in this only, 
can I hope for a continued heartfelt enjoyment of that 
peace of God which passeth all understanding, whilst here 
on earth, and be thereby prepared to stand with humble 
boldness before the awful, impartial tribunal of the great 
Shepherd and Bishop of souls at the great day.' 

His plan was defeated, for the present at least. In 
order to uphold his reputation in America, he published 
his correspondence with the archbishop, and sent it to the 
Governor of Georgia for circulation. To come as near 
his idea as possible, he now proposed to add a public 
academy to the orphan-house, and to form a proper 
trust, to act after his decease, or even before, with this 
proviso, that no opportunity should be omitted of making 
fresh application for a college charter, 4 upon a broad 
bottom, Avhenever those in power might think it for the 
glory of God and the interest of their king and country 
to grant the same.' Thus his 6 beloved Bethesda ' would 
not only be continued as a house of mercy for orphans, 
but be confirmed as a seat and nursery of sound learning 
and religious education to the latest posterity. Great and 
worthy aspirations, which were doomed to disappoint- 
ment ! 

In 1768 six students of St. Edmund Hall, Oxford, were 
expelled the University, for holding Methodistical tenets, 
for taking upon them to pray, read, and expound the 
scriptures, for singing hymns in private houses, and for 
being tradesmen before entering as students. They used to 
meet at the house of a Mrs. Durbriclge, where Dr. Stilling- 
fleet, then a fellow of Merton College, would expound 
and pray, and invite them to do likewise ; they also 
engaged in religious work in the cottages of the poor. 
Their tutor, who was subject to attacks of insanity, first 
accused them to Dr. Dixon, the principal, as enthusiasts, 



498 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

who talked of inspiration, regeneration, and drawing nigh 
to God ; but Dr. Dixon treated the charge as an evidence 
that the tutor's complaint was troubling him again. He 
had full confidence in the character of the students. 
The tutor next lodged his charge with Dr. Durell, the 
Vice-Chancellor, who was of opinion that any more 
Whitefields or Wesleys at Oxford would be a great 
calamity, and that the offenders should at once be cited 
before a visitatorial tribunal. The members of the tri- 
bunal were nominated ; the notice of citation was nailed 
upon the college door ; and the students appeared to 
answer the charge. They had warm friends in several 
heads of houses, and Dr. Dixon generously pleaded their 
cause. It was in vain. The Vice-Chancellor and the 
rest of the tribunal declared them worthy of expulsion, 
and sentence was accordingly pronounced against them. 

But the judges did not escape public censure. It was 
to be expected that the Methodists would be against 
them ; they were also opposed by men of equal standing 
in the Church with themselves. Whitefield could not 
let the matter pass without notice ; and he wrote and 
published a letter to Dr. Durell, besides showing the 
students much private sympathy. As to the charges, 
what evil or crime worthy of expulsion, he asked, could 
there be in having followed a trade before entering the 
University ? and whoever heard of its being accounted a 
disparagement to any great public character that he had 
once been a mechanic? Why, David was a shepherd, 
and even Jesus of Nazareth was a carpenter. But the 
delinquents had been found guilty of praying. And how 
could that, he demanded, disqualify them for the private 
or public discharge of their ministerial functions ? But 
it was extempore prayer that they had used. Extempore 
prayer a crime ! It was not a crime to be found in any 
law-book, neither had anyone been called before the bar 
of any public court of judicature to answer for it for at 



LAST VISIT TO EDINBURGH. 



499 



least a century. Expelled for extempore praying ! Then 
it was high time there were some expulsions for ex- 
tempore swearing, which was surely the greater sin of 
the two. But these men sang hymns. Yes, he replied, 
and so did David ; and this very exercise of praise are 
we taught by St. Paul to cultivate. Praise ! Well, Catholic 
students might sing ; then why not Protestants ? Ought 
Protestants to be less devout than Papists ? And if the 
Duke of Cumberland allowed his pious soldiers to sing, 
why should the Vice-Chancellor of a University forbid his 
pious students ? Or was there more harm in hearing a 
psalm-tune than in listening to the noise of box and dice, 
which was not an unknown sound even at Oxford ? 

Thus far his polemics. We must now follow him to 
other engagements. As if with an expectation of soon 
dying, he now began to collect his letters ; and to this 
forethought we are indebted for the best story of his life. 
He felt that another voyage to America, whither he must 
go again on account of Bethesda's affairs, would probably 
be the last ; and he begged his friends Keen and Hardy 
to let him have his papers and letters, that he might 
revise and dispose of them in a proper manner. 

It was in June and July, 1768, that he paid his last 
visit to Edinburgh, always a dear city to him. He 
thanked God for ordering his steps thither. The congre- 
gations in the orphan-house park were as large and 
attentive as those which he addressed when he was 
called a godly youth by his friends, and a minister of 
the devil by his enemies. Great was their affection for 
him, and his only danger was that of 6 being hugged to 
death ; ' for there were friends of twenty-seven years' 
standing, and spiritual children of the same age, who 
remembered the days of old. They were seeking after 
their first love ; and the Spirit of God seemed to be 
moving amongst them. He often got into the open air 
upon what he was beginning fondly to call his ; throne ; ' 



500 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEOKGE WHITEFIELD. 

and indeed he was a king of men when there. 6 to 
die there ! ' he exclaimed ; then, checking himself, he 
added, ' Too great, too great an honour to be expected ! ' 
]STo doubt the parting was as painful as any he had ever 
known ; and he was wont to call parting days ' execution 
days.' 

Soon after his return to London, Mrs. Whitefield was 
seized with an 6 inflammatory fever,' and died on August 
9, 1768. He preached her funeral sermon from a very 
singular text, Eomans viii. 20 — 'For the creature was 
made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of 
Him who hath subjected the same in hope.' Un- 
fortunately, that sermon is not preserved, and the only 
references made by him to the event are very trifling, 
and throw no light upon his domestic life. He calls the 
death an 'unexpected breach,' and says that he feels the 
loss of his ' right hand ' daily. Cornelius Winter, who 
lived in Whitefield's house for some time, is more 
explicit, and says 6 He was not happy in his wife ; but I 
fear some, who had not all the religion they professed, 
contributed to his infelicity. He did not intentionally 
make his wife unhappy. He always preserved great 
decency and decorum in his conduct towards her. Her 
death set his mind much at liberty. She certainly did 
not behave in all respects as she ought. She could be 
under no temptation from his conduct towards the sex, 
for he was a very pure man, a strict example of the 
chastity he inculcated upon others.' Equally clear is the 
testimony of Berridge, only he lays the fault all on one 
side; he says 'No trap so mischievous to the field- 
preacher as wedlock, and it is laid for him at every 
hedge-corner. Matrimony has quite maimed poor Charles 
[Wesley], and might have spoiled John [Wesley] and 
George [Whitefield], if a wise Master had not graciously 
sent them a brace of ferrets.- Dear George has now got 
his liberty again, and he will 'scape well if he is not 



DOxUESTIC LIFE. 



501 



caught by another tenterhook.' The evidence upon this 
point of Whitefield's life might be completed by the 
publication of some manuscript letters of Whitefield to 
his wife and of her to him, which are now unwisely 
kept from the public ; but I understand that they show 
that his domestic life, as much of it as he ever knew, 
was not happy. 

Philip (in his 4 Life and Times of Whitefield ') did 
his best to overturn Winter's statement, and, without 
sufficient reason, as I think, called it rash ; of Berridge's 
language he knew nothing ; and of the private letters 
he never heard. Taking a survey of all that bears upon 
the unsettled question — the statements already given, 
and Whitefield's language concerning his wife, which has 
been quoted in the course of this biography with 
scrupulous exactness and fairness, and all of it is kind, 
some of it warmly affectionate — I cannot but conclude 
that Whitefield's domestic life would have been happy 
enough could he have had more of it. His marrying at 
all was a blunder. Love cannot live upon nothing ; yet 
his and his wife's was put upon that fare. It was 
impossible for her to accompany him on his journeys ; it 
was impossible for him to stay at home ; it was impossible 
for him to write to her often. What wonder if she did 
not behave in all respects as she ought ? Berridge called 
her by too hard a name, as well as too rude, when he 
called her a ' ferret.' It seems highly creditable to them 
that they bore with each other as they did ; he did not 
mean to make her unhappy, and she did not mean to 
misbehave ; and they knew each other's intentions too well 
to quarrel. She never questioned his sincerity, nor he hers. 
There can be no doubt but that his own words about her 
and himself, written but a month before she died, are 
now fulfilled, and they will form the best conclusion 
to one of the few shaded parts of his many-sided life — • 
< We are both descending,' he said, 6 in order to ascend 



502 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



Where sin and pain and sorrow cease, 
And all is calm and joy and peace.' 

He might have followed his wife more quickly than he 
had expected ; within a month of her death, he burst a 
vein by hard riding and frequent preaching. Eest and 
quietness were enjoined upon him until the flux was 
quite stopped. The fact is, he had been in Wales, and 
it was not easy to keep himself within bounds among the 
fiery, rapturous Welsh. Moreover, he had been attending 
a significant ceremony — the opening of a college for the 
education of godly young men who aspired to be ministers. 
The Countess of Huntingdon had for some time purposed 
founding such an institution ; and, on the anniversary of 
her birthday, August 24, 1768, Trevecca House, in the 
parish of Talgarth, South Wales, was dedicated by her 
to a new purpose, and was afterwards known as Trevecca 
College. Whitefield opened both the college and the 
chapel attached to it ; and on the following Sunday, he 
preached in the court before the college, to a congregation 
of some thousands. 

The winter of 1768-9 was spent by Whitefield in 
London ; it was the last but one he lived to see. He 
was well enough to preach frequently ; and as we shall 
not again find him among his London friends, it may be 
best now to notice some of his habits and characteristics 
which have not yet been mentioned. 1 We know how 
neat and punctual he was in his younger days, and he 
was not different as an old man. It was a great fault for 
his meals to be but a few minutes late ; and he would 
suffer no sitting up after ten o'clock at night, and no 
lying in bed after four in the morning. He would rise 
up abruptly in the midst of a conversation at ten at 
night, and say, 6 But we forget ourselves. Come, gentle- 
men, it is time for all good folks to be at home.' 
Whether anyone or no one sat down to table with him, 

1 Jay's ' Memoirs of Cornelius Winter.' 



HABITS AND CHARACTERISTICS. 



503 



and whether he had but bread and cheese or a complete 
dinner, the table must be properly spread. His love of 
exactness and order was the same in business transactions ; 
every article was paid for at once, and for small articles 
the money was taken in the hand. His temper was 
soon annoyed, but quickly appeased. Not being patient 
enough one day to hear an explanation of a fault from 
some one who w r as studious to please, he gave much 
pain, and saw it by the tears which he started ; this 
instantly touched him with grief, and bursting into tears 
himself, he said, 4 1 shall live to be a poor peevish old 
man, and everybody will be tired of me.' His commands 
were given kindly ; and he always applauded when a 
person did right. 

It is painful to learn that in his old age his confidence 
in mankind was much shaken. Always true to his 
friends in all fortunes, he yet was doomed to feel the 
treachery of many ; and on that account he seemed to 
dread outliving his usefulness. The same experience 
made him exacting, and almost harsh, with young men 
who wanted to be ministers. To curb their vanity, as he 
would say, he would place them in humiliating circum- 
stances, and then refer to the young Eoman orators, who 
after being applauded were sent upon trifling errands. 
He would keep them in suspense, and afford them little 
or no encouragement. One man, who answered him 
that he w T as a tailor, was dismissed with — ; Go to rag-fair, 
and buy old clothes ; ' and very likely rag-fair was his 
proper destination. He said of another who had preached 
in his vestry from the text, c These that have turned the 
world upside down have come hither also ' — 4 That man 
shall come no more here ; if God had called him to 
preach, He would have furnished him with a proper 
text.' He judged rightly ; for the man afterwards be- 
came an inconsistent clergyman : he too would have 
been best at rag-fair. 



504 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WIIITEFIELD. 



Tormented as he must have been with all kinds of 
visitors and all kinds of requests, had he kept an open 
door, he wisely suffered but few to see him freely. 
'Who is it?' 4 What is his business ? ' he would demand 
before his door was opened ; and if the door was opened, 
he would say, 4 Tell him to come to-morrow morning at 
six o'clock, perhaps five, or immediately after preaching ; 
if he is later, I cannot see him.' 

Knowing that he sometimes preached an hour and a 
half or two hours, it prepares us for long prayers also ; 
and perhaps had others prayed as well as he preached he 
might have borne with them. But he hated all unreality. 
In the middle of an immoderately long prayer by the 
master of the house where he was once staying, he rose 
from his knees, and sat clown in the chair ; and when 
the drawler concluded, he said to him with a frown : 
4 Sir, you prayed me into a good frame, and you prayed 
me out of it again.' 

We have seen that he was like old Mr. Cole in his use 
of anecdotes, nor were they always without a touch of 
humour. He was no more afraid of his congregations 
smiling than weeping ; to get the truth into their hearts 
and heads was his object. His observant habits gathered 
illustrations from all quarters ; and the last book he had 
read was sure to colour his next sermon. 

He always ascended the pulpit with a pale, serious face, 
and a slow, calm step, as if he had a great message for 
the expectant thousands. Much preaching made him, 
not more familiar with his awful themes, but more 
solemn ; and towards the close of life, he sometimes 
entreated his friends to mention nothing to him which 
did not relate to eternity. On Sabbath morning his 
preaching was explanatory and doctrinal ; in the after- 
noon it was more general and hortatory ; and in the 
evening it was more general still. In the morning he 
was calm and conversational, occasionally making a 



MANNER OF PR CACHING. 



505 



modest show of learning ; in the evening he was oratori- 
cal, and attempted by every art of persuasion and every 
terror of denunciation to save his hearers from sin and 
its punishment. Then his perfect elocution and graceful 
gestures were in full play, his uttermost acting never 
appearing unnatural or improper. It is difficult to be- 
lieve that any preacher could successfully put a fold of 
his gown over his eyes to express grief, yet Whitefield 
invariably did it when he was depicting in his own vivid 
way the downfall of Peter, and grieving over it. 

He seemed to have no particular time for preparing 
for the pulpit, although before entering it he loved to 
have an hour or two alone ; and on Sunday mornings he 
generally had Clarke's Bible, Matthew Henry's Commen- 
tary, and Cruden's Concordance within reach. It was 
remarked also that at this time his state of mind was 
more than usually devout ; but ordinarily, indeed, the 
intervals of conversation were filled up with private 
ejaculations of praise and prayer, notwithstanding his love 
of pleasantry, which he did not care to suppress. His 
was an honest, real life from beginning to end ; he was 
himself at all times and everywhere. 

He did not love to be known and observed wherever 
he went. If he ever was fond of popularity, he was 
weary of it long before he became old, and often said 
that he ' almost envied the man who could take his 
choice of food at an eating-house, and pass unnoticed.' 

It is said that when he wrote his pamphlets, he shut 
himself up in his room, and would see no one until his 
work was done. Besides the productions of his pen 
already noticed, he wrote a 6 Eecommendatory Preface to 
the Works of John Bunyan,' which would have been 
more appropriately called a recommendation of Puritans 
and Puritan divinity ; it contains not one discriminating 
remark upon the writings of the dreamer. Early in his 
ministry, he began some 4 Observations on select passages 



506 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



of Scripture, turned into catechetical questions,' which 
are much like the questions which an ordinary Sunday- 
school teacher would put to his class ; but they were soon 
discontinued. A more elaborate work was ' Law Gos- 
pelised,' which means ' an attempt to render Mr. Law's 
44 Serious Call " more useful to the children of God, by 
excluding whatever is not truly evangelical, and illus- 
trating the subject more fully from the Holy Scriptures.' 
We never hear of Law in this evangelical garb now, 
though we do hear of him without it. He has been 
preferred ungospelised ; and Whitefielcl might have saved 
his trouble, had he remembered that 4 men do not put 
new wine into old bottles : else the bottles break, and the 
wine runneth out, and the bottles perish.' He contem- 
plated editing a new edition of the Homilies, for which 
he wrote a preface, and added a prayer for each homily, 
and a hymn selected either from Watts's or Wesley's 
collection. It was intended chiefly for the poor, and as 
a safeguard against Popery. He thought that it would 
banish heterodoxy and 4 mere heathen morality,' and 
show that the 4 enthusiasts ' were the best churchmen ; 
but his plan was not carried out. 

He published several prayers, some of which are most 
appropriate in petition and language. Their titles are a 
leaf of Church history, and the petitions contained in 
some are as plain an index to passing conditions of life 
as are the peculiarities of the psalms. They were com- 
posed for persons desiring and seeking after the new birth, 
for those newly awakened to a sense of the divine life,, 
for those under spiritual desertion, for those under the 
displeasure of relations for being religious ; then come 
the cases of servants, Negroes, labourers, rich men, 
travellers, sailors, the sick, and persons in a storm at sea. 

The prayer for a person before he goes a journey may 
be quoted : — 

6 Grod of Abraham, God of Isaac, and Grod of Jacob, who 



A traveller's prayer. 



507 



ledclest the people through a wilderness by a cloud by day, and 
a pillar of fire by night ; and didst guide the wise men on their 
journey to Jerusalem, by a star in the east; give Thy angels 
charge concerning me, Thy unworthy servant, that I may not 
so much as hurt my foot against a stone. Keep me, (rod, 
keep me on my journey, and suffer me not to fall among 
robbers. Jesus, thou Grood Samaritan, take care of, support, 
defend, and provide for me. Behold, I go out by the direction 
of Thy providence ; Lord, therefore let Thy presence go along 
with me, and Thy Spirit speak to my soul, when I am journey- 
ing alone by the wayside. 0, let me know that I am not 
alone, because my heavenly Father is with me. Keep me from 
evil company ; or, if it be Thy will I should meet with any, 
give me courage and freedom, Lord, to discourse of the 
things concerning the kingdom of Grod. And that Thou 
wouldest let me meet with some of Thy own dear children ! 
0, that Thou would'st be with us, as with the disciples at 
Emmaus, and cause our hearts mutually to burn with love 
towards Thee and one another ! Provide for me proper refresh- 
ment ; and, wherever I lodge, be Thou constrained, God, for 
Thy own name's sake, to lodge with me. Teach me, whether at 
home or abroad, to behave as a stranger and pilgrim upon earth. 
Preserve my household and friends in my absence, and grant 
that I may return to them again in peace. Enable me patiently 
to take up every cross that may be put in my way. Let me not 
be weary and faint in my mind. Make, Lord, right paths 
for my feet ; enable me to hold out to the end of the race set 
before me, and, after the journey of this life, translate me to 
that blessed place where the wicked one will cease from 
troubling, and my weary soul enjoy an everlasting rest with 
Thee, Father, Son, and blessed Spirit ; to whom, as three 
Persons but one GTod, be ascribed all possible power, might, 
majesty, and dominion, now and for evermore. Amen.' 

There is no hymn bearing Whitefielcl's name. The 
Methodist revival gave the English Church in all its 

O CD 

branches the greater number of its best hymns. Watts, 
Charles Wesley, John Wesley, Zinzendorf, Doddridge, 
Cennick, Maclan, Berridge, Haweis, Toplady, all of them 
either taking an active part in the movement or coming 



508 LIFE AXD TKAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

within the range of its influence, have expressed for us 
the humblest grief of our repentance, the fullest trust of 
our faith, and the brightest expectation of our hope ; 
but Whitefield has given us not a verse. Emotional, like 
Charles Wesley, he yet had none of that fervid poet's 
music. He was nothing but a preacher ; but as a 
preacher he was the greatest of all his brethren, the 
most competent of his contemporaries being judges. 

The only direct association of Whitefield's name with 
the names of the brilliant and gifted men of his time has 
already appeared in the narrative of his preaching 
triumphs. It was principally statesmen — Pitt and Fox 
among the number, never Burke — who went to hear him. 
Not one of the celebrated Literary Club, Garrick excepted, 
was ever seen in the 4 soul- trap.' Oglethorpe makes a 
kind of link between the Club and the Tabernacle. A 
friend of Whitefield, he was also a friend of Goldsmith ; 
and sometimes he and Topham Beauclerc would turn in 
of an evening, to drink a glass of wine with 'Goldy,' 
at his chambers in Brick Court, Middle Temple — the 
chambers which he bought with the proceeds of the play 
that Shuter lifted into popularity. But the easy ways of 
many of these sons of genius, their wine-sipping, when 
they could get it, their comfortable suppers at the £ Turk's 
Head,' their gaiety and their sins, sufficiently explain 
how it was that in all Whitefield's career not one of them 
crossed his path. They talked about him, as they talked 
about everybody and everything ; they theorised about 
his popularity ; Johnson was sure that it was £ chiefly 
owing to the peculiarity of his manner. He would be 
followed by crowds were he to wear a nightcap in the 
pulpit, or were he to preach from a tree.' No doubt of 
it : and no doubt the nightcap would have made grasping 
men give of their beloved money to the orphan-house, 
and hardened sinners go home as gentle as lambs, and 
worldly wretches, who had been living only for the body 



THE LAST HYMN OF THE METHODIST EVANGELISTS. 509 



and for this life, begin to lift up their abject souls to 
look towards the splendours and joys of a heavenly 
kingdom ! 

Blind Handel might often be seen at the Countess's, 
where he would gratify the Methodists by telling them 
what great pleasure he had enjoyed in setting the 
scriptures to music, and how some of the sublime 
passages of the Psalms were a comfort and a satisfaction 
to him. Lady Gertrude Hotham and Lady Chesterfield, 
both of them Methodists, gave occasional concerts of 
sacred music at their houses ; and there on other occasions 
Giardini might be seen with his violin, applauded as 
heartily as in any opera-house. But whether the earnest 
preacher ever indulged himself with the gratification, I 
cannot say ; it is hardly likely that he was once present. 
4 1 must work while it is called day,' was the thought 
ever before his mind. 

So we turn again with him to the places which he had 
loved to frequent, and where his form has become familiar 
to us. It is the last interview between Whitefield and 
Wesley that Wesley records in his journal on Monday 
(their old meeting day), February 27, 1769. He says, 
4 1 had one more agreeable conversation with my old 
friend and fellow-labourer, George Whitefield. His soul 
appeared to be vigorous still, but his body was sinking 
apace ; and, unless God interposes with His mighty hand, 
he must soon finish his labours.' And this is a pleasant 
picture of the now aged, greyheaded evangelists, who in 
their youth had fired the nation with religious enthusiasm, 
which is sketched by Charles Wesley in a letter to his 
wife : 6 Last Friday I dined with my brother at George's 
chapel. Mrs. Herritage was mistress, and provided the 
dinner. Hearty Mr. Adams was there ; and to complete 
our band, Howel Harris. It was indeed a feast of love. 
My brother and George prayed : we all sang an hymn in 
the chapel.' They were never all together again in this 



510 LIFE AXD TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEPIELD. 



world. Their last hymn in ; George's chapel ' carries the 
soul up to that house in the heavens, and we seem to 
hear it renewed again there. 

The parting solemnities were exceedingly awful, when, 
early in September, 1769, Wlitefield, accompanied by 
Cornelius \^ inter, took his last farewell of his English 
friends. His thirteenth voyage much resembled his first ; 
it Avas hindered by the same delays ; it was made danger- 
ous by the same high gales. He took to his old employ- 
ment when sailing, of reading the History of England, 
composing sermons, and writing letters. The greatest 
respect was shown him by both captain and passengers ; 
and all attended service. He only wanted somebody 
about him with 4 a little more brains,' he said, and then 
his comforts would have been complete. 

His reception at Charleston was very hearty, and he 
preached the day after landing. Bethesda was in a satis- 
factory condition ; he admitted ten orphans in the spring 
of 1770. They were what he called his prizes. The 
peace and happiness of the place were his daily joy ; and 
thus Bethesda, after all the trouble it had cost him, after 
all his prayers and tears and pleadings for it, was to 
minister largely to the comfort of his last days. The 
hope of making it a college was again revived ; and he 
prepared a draft of its future constitution, naming the 
Avar dens, but omitting himself, and thus annihilating his 
own name. Circumstances, however, soon changed, and 
he felt that its affairs must go on in their old channel. 

His health continued better than it had been for years ; 
and Avhen summer approached he started on his old 
preaching circuit in the north. Invitations crowded in 
upon him ; and he travelled from place to place as if 
the vigour of his youth Avere renewed. During one 
month. July, lie travelled rive hundred miles, riding and 
preaching during the heat of every day. 

Hoav like the language of his youth is that Avhich he 



EVENTIDE. 



511 



penned at Xew York to his friend Keen — 1 0. what a 
new scene of usefulness is opening in various parts of this 
new world ! All fresh work where I have been. The 
divine influence hath been as at the first. Invitations 
crowd upon me, both from ministers and people, from 
many, many quarters. A very peculiar providence led me 
lately to a place where a horse-stealer was executed ; 
thousands attended. The poor criminal had sent me 
several letters, hearing I was in the country. The sheriff 
allowed him to come and hear a sermon under an adja- 
cent tree. Solemn ! solemn ! After being by himself 
about an hour, I walked half a mile with him to the 
gallows. His heart had been softened before my first 
visit. He seemed full of solid, divine consolations. An 
instructive walk ! I went up with him into the cart. He 
gave a short exhortation. I then stood upon the coffin, 
added, I trust, a word in season, prayed, gave the 
blessing, and took mv leave.' This was not the first ex- 
edition he had been present at. He pressed all thiDgs 
into the service of the pulpit, and was wont to make even 
the final scenes of a criminals career give effect to the 
urgency and solemnity of his appeals and warnings. At 
the close of a sermon, and after pausing for a moment, he 
would say, with his eyes full of tears and his heart almost 
too big for words : — 4 1 am going now to put on my con- 
demning cap. Sinner, I must do it ; I must pronounce 
sentence upon you.' Then, like a peal of thunder, fell the 
terrible curse, J Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting- 
fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.' 

It was now eventide with him ; but one week of life 
remained. There was a hush and quietness gathering 
around the close of his benevolent ministry, which seemed 
to tell of coming rest for the wearv and broken servant. 
Opposition was silent ; none spoke or wrote a word 
against him. The people, as if they expected to see his 
face no more, clung to him, and were unwilling to let 



512 LIFE AND TEAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 

him leave their towns and villages, through which he was 
still attempting to travel on his evangelistic work. But it 
was not always he could meet them, when they had as- 
sembled together ; for the body was being shaken to its 
fall. They were, he said, but 4 poor efforts he could make 
to serve his Lord. 0, for a warm heart ! 0, to stand fast 
in the faith — to quit ourselves like men, and be strong !' 
To the letter which contains this prayer, he subscribed 
himself, as was now his way, 4 Less than the least of 
all, George Whitefield.' It was the last subscription 
he penned, and well did it harmonise with one of the 
strongest wishes he had ever made known to God — the 
wish to be humble. 

On Friday, September 29, he preached at Ports- 
mouth ; and on the following morning started for Boston, 
travelling by way of Exeter and Newbury Port, in order 
to fulfil an engagement at the latter place on the Sunday. 
But the people of Exeter could not let him pass without 
his giving them a sermon ; and he yielded to their en- 
treaties. He had ridden fifteen miles that morning, and, 
as he was more uneasy than usual, one remarked to him, 
before going out to preach : 4 Sir, you are more fit to go 
to bed than to preach.' Whitefield answered : ' True, 
sir ; ' then, turning aside, he clasped his hands together, 
and looking up, said : ' Lord Jesus, I am weary in Thy 
work, but not of Thy work. If I have not yet finished 
my course, let me go and speak for Thee once more in 
the fields, seal Thy truth, and come home and die.' The 
Lord heard his request. He went out and preached in 
the fields for nearly two hours to a large congregation. 
Then he dined, and rode forward to Newbury Port with 
a friend. In the evening he was tired, and, after an early 
supper, of which he partook very sparingly, begged the 
Eev. Mr. Parsons, at whose house he w T as staying, to have 
family prayer, so that he might retire to rest at once. 
Meanwhile, the pavement in front of the house and the 



THE LAST NIGHT. 



513 



hall became crowded with people who wanted to hear 
some words of grace and truth from his lips ; but he felt 
himself unequal to the task of addressing them, and said 
to another clergyman, 4 Brother, you must speak to these 
dear people ; I cannot say a word.' To his friend and 
companion, who slept in the same room with him, he 
said, 6 1 will sit and read till you come to me.' But there 
were the waiting people to be passed, as, with candle in 
hand, he went to his bedroom ; and his heart strove with 
him to say something. He halted on the staircase, turned 
towards them, and began an exhortation. Tearful eyes 
were lifted up to him. while his words flowed on and 
ceased not ' until the candle, which he still held, burned 
away, and went out in its socket.' 1 

When his friend entered his room, Whitefield was 
found reading the Bible, with Watts's Psalms lying open 
before him. After committing himself into the hands of 
God, he went to rest, and slept, with the window half 
open, till two in the morning, when an attack of asthma 
seized him. Yet he talked of his work as if many days 
more were left to him ; he must have two or three days' 
riding without preaching, and then he would be all right ; 
or, he thought, his preaching the next day would make 
him better — his old remedy, ' a pulpit-sweat,' would 
relieve him ; he would rather wear out than rust out. It 
had long been his habit to rise in the night and pray ; and 
this night, weary and panting, he sat up in bed and prayed 
God to bless his preaching on the past day, and his forth- 
coming services on the Sunday ; to bring more souls to 
Christ ; to give him direction in the way he should take, 
whether he should winter at Boston, or hasten to the 
south ; to remember Bethesda and his dear family ; to 
smile on the congregations at the Tabernacle and Totten- 
ham Court Chapel, and on all his English friends. He lay 
down again to sleep ; but in an hour he called his friend 

1 < History of Methodism.' By Abel Stevens, LL.D., p. 360. 
L L 



514 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEP1ELD. 



for help. 6 My asthma — my asthma is coming on,' be 
said. At five o'clock he rose to open the window wider 
for more air. A few minutes afterwards, he turned to 
his companion, and said, 4 1 am dying.' He ran to the 
other window, panting for breath, but could get no relief. 
They seated him in his chair, wrapped his cloak round 
him, and did their utmost to restore him. But the end 
was come. The device on his seal of wings outspread for 
flight, and the motto it bore, £ Astra petamus,' had long 
expressed his ardent desire to pass even beyond the stars ; 
and, at six o'clock on Sunday morning, September 30, 
1770, he entered heaven itself. 

The end was conformable to his hope and prayer. He 
was an evangelist, and died in a foreign land, although 
not among strangers. He was a field-preacher, and 
preached his last sermon in the fields. He had feared out- 
living his usefulness, and was permitted a reviving of his 
strength before he departed at the comparatively early 
age of fifty- six, and after thirty-four years of exertion. 
He had expected to die silent ; for, he said, s It has pleased 
God to enable me to bear so many testimonies for Him 
during my life, that He will require none from me when 
I die.' And so it was. 

He was buried, according to his wish, beneath the 
pulpit of Mr. Parsons, at Xewbury Port, the mighty host 
of mourners present, six thousand members and ministers 
of many denominations, fitly representing the catholicity 
of his heart and the magnitude of his labours. When the 
coffin was placed close to the mouth of the vault, one of 
his sons in the faith ascended the pulpit, offered prayer, 
and confessed before all his vast obligations to him whose 
body they were about to commit to the grave. His emo- 
tion conquered him, and, as he cried out, 4 0, my father, 
my father !' and stood and wept, the people mingled their 
tears with his. They tried to sing a hymn, but weeping 
choked many voices. A sermon was then preached ; the 



GKIEF W AMERICA AID AT HOME. 



5 15 



coffin was lowered into the vault ; another short prayer 
was offered ; and the congregation, still in tears, passed 
along the streets to their homes. 

The outward demonstrations of grief were numerous 
and sincere. The bells of Newbury Port were tolled, 
and the ships in the harbour fired their guns, and hung 
their flags half-mast high. Funeral sermons were preached 
in the principal cities of America. In Georgia all the 
black cloth in the stores was bought up for mourning by 
the sorrowing people. They hung the church at Savannah 
in black, and the Governor and the Council led the pro- 
cession which attended to hear the funeral sermon. In 
London, where the news of his death was received on 
November 5, the same grief was felt and expressed. 
The 'London Chronicle' of November 19 says that the 
multitudes which went to hear his funeral sermon by 
Wesley, in Tottenham Court Chapel and the Tabernacle, 
exceeded all belief ; and in churches and chapels of all 
orders there were similar commemorations of him. 

Lovers of absolute, unvarying consistency, and lovers 
of real or apparent contradictions may measure him by 
the room he had for diverse things. He loved privacy, 
but always lived in public ; he was the foremost philan- 
thropist of his time, but owned fifty slaves to maintain 
his orphans ; he was slim in person, but occasionally 
stormed in his preaching as if he were a giant ; he was 
weak, but worked to the last, and crowded a long life 
into a short one ; he was the favourite preacher of col- 
liers and London roughs, but was an equal favourite of 
peers and scholars ; he believed in a limited atonement 
for sin. but proclaimed the love of Gpcl with a tender- 
ness which made all feel that Christ had died for them ; 
he was a clergyman of the Church of England, but, at 
his own request, lies buried in a Presbyterian Church ; 
he was a Calvinist in doctrine, but chose an Arminian to 
preach his funeral sermon. 



516 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



Two questions are almost sure to be upon the reader's 
tongue. First, what became of the orphan-house P 
Secondly, where are the results of his preaching ? These 
shall now be answered. 

I. The orphan-house with everything connected with 
it was left to the Countess of Huntingdon, Mr. Habersham 
to act in her absence from America. Arrangements 
had been made in Whitefieid's lifetime for carrying on 
an academy along with the orphanage. It became also 
a home, whence missionaries, sent from England by Lady 
Huntingdon, started on mission work among the Indians 
and the settlers. It was accidentally burnt down about 
two years after the death of Whitefield, and rebuilt, but 
not upon the original site. Other changes of fortune 
happened to it, one of which was the appointment of 
Franklin, its early opponent, as a trustee, because he was 
an ' honest man.' Its original charter appointed its con- 
tinuance so long as there were three members to cele- 
brate the anniversary, which falls on St. George's Hay. 
This provision might once have sealed its fate. Three 
members, ' a Protestant, a Catholic, and an Israelite,' 
who apparently constituted the whole board at that time, 
were all prisoners of war on board a British man-of-war 
when St. George's Day came round. Eemembering the 
charter, they begged permission of the captain to go 
ashore, and celebrate the anniversary under an oak tree 
in Tunbury, Georgia. He consented, and the ceremony 
was duly performed. Mr. Joseph S. Fay, now of Boston, 
and formerly of Savannah, succeeded, during the time he 
was president of the institution, in repurchasing the old 
site, and placing the orphanage upon it again. This year 
(1870) a new building has been begun, which will make 
the fourth since Wnitefield laid the first brick of Bethesda 
with his own hand. 1 

1 I am indebted for these particulars to the kindness of the Rev. Dr. 
Blagden and the Rev. Dr. Tarbox, of Boston, U.S., who received them 
from Mr. Minis and Mr. Weld ; the former is a Jew and president of the 
board of trustees. 



RESULTS OF WIIITEFIELD's WORK. 



517 



Between 1739 and 1770, forty- three girls and one 
hundred and forty boys were clothed, educated, main- 
tained, and suitably provided for in the orphan-house ; 
and over and above this number many poor children were 
occasionally received, educated, and maintained. Ac- 
cording to the audit of 1770, this work w T as done at a 
cost of 15,404/., of which 11,000/. was collected by 
Whitefield, the rest being raised by the farm. 

II. The results of Whiten" eld's work may be classed as 
indirect and direct results. 1. Among the first must be 
placed the impetus which he undoubtedly gave to philan- 
thropical work. His preaching to prisoners and his 
constant pleadings for orphans and other distressed per- 
sons, accustomed all classes of people to kindly thoughts 
for the wretched and the forlorn. He created, not alto- 
gether, but largely, the feeling upon which philanthropy 
in its active forms must live. The benevolent objects of 
present religious work received recognition in every city 
and village, when the connexion between acceptance 
with God through our Lord Jesus Christ and the neces- 
sity for good works was repeatedly and clearly pointed 
out. Justification was the introduction to feeding the 
hungry, clothing the naked, and housing the orphan. 

It is equally significant that the great missionary move- 
ments of our time followed close upon the Methodist 
reformation ; and in that reformation, who was there 
among the host of preachers and evangelists to be com- 
pared with Whitefield for missionary enterprise ? Whose 
foot ranged over so wide a circuit ? Whose sympathies 
were enlisted for so many objects ? If he did not go to 
the heathen who worship idols of wood and stone, he 
went to those w T ho were debased by the lowest vices ; and 
when, under Iris leadership, the Church had conducted 
them to a holy life and pure enjoyments, her attention 
w T as next directed to the heathen beyond. Whitefield 
accustomed the Church to the idea of aggression upon 



518 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITE FIELD. 

the kingdom of darkness ; lie taught her that all lost and 
forgotten people are the inheritance of her Lord. 

Again, it needs but a simple statement of facts to 
show that Whitefield's preaching and his catholic spirit 
(the latter more than the former) have tended in no 
small measure to produce in England, as they first did 
in America, a true love of spiritual freedom, and an 
honest reverence for religious equality. In his labours 
among all denominations he affected no condescension, 
he never played the patron. All were equally, truly 
brethren. Neither to benefit himself, nor to forward any 
of his plans, would he place one denomination before 
another. His conduct with regard to Bethesda College 
proves indisputably that he believed in religious equality, 
and would not support or countenance anything else ; 
and whether society is now following him, or clinging to 
unrighteous and unchristian exclusiveness, none can fail 
to see. But it was not his logical faculty that helped 
him so far forward in the path of truth ; it was his bro- 
therly spirit, that could endure no distinctions ; his heart 
always led him onward and upward. 

Could nothing more than this be said, then Whitefield 
has not lived in vain ; since the power of a life consists 
not so much in the formation of parties, and sects, and 
. schools, as in the anticipation of the truest and holiest 
things of future days, and in the preparation of the world 
for their advent. Churches may be cemeteries of the 
dead railed off from the living ; or loving messengers of 
Christ going about doing good. Whitefield found them 
the former, and left them the latter. 

2. Still, the demand is sure to be made for facts and 
figures. What did he accomplish ? is the question asked. 
The answer is : — 

(1.) That his converts were to be found wherever he 
had travelled, nay even beyond that extensive range, and 
were to be counted by tens of thousands. 



EESULTS OF WHITEFIELD'S WOKK. 



519 



(2.) That a great number of his converts were mi- 
nisters properly trained for their ministerial work, who 
handed the truth down to children's children. In the 
neighbourhood of Boston in America alone there were 
at one time twenty ministers who owned him as their 
spiritual father. Some of them had a spiritual history 
not much less wonderful than his own. Such was the 
case with a young man at Norwich in England, who went 
to hear Whitefield preach, that he might be able to tell 
his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, 
what the great Methodist was like ; for a fortune-teller 
had informed him that he should live to be an old man, 
and see these distant descendants. He got the informa- 
tion in sport, but it turned to good account. The early 
parts of Whitefield's sermon made no impression upon 
him ; but when Whitefield abruptly broke off, paused 
for a few moments, then burst into a flood of tears, and 
lifting up his hands and eyes, exclaimed, ' my hearers, 
the wrath to come ! the wrath to come ! the wrath to 
come ! ' the words sunk into his heart. For days and weeks 
he could think of little else ; then came the change in cha- 
, racter and the change in life. He was only one of many. 
(3.) That he was the first of the evangelical clergy in 
the Church of England ; and had they formed a separate 
sect, instead of a party in a church, no one would have 
asked what are the results of his labours. This is the 
party which holds Whitefield's legacy to mankind strictly 
in the letter — sometimes not more than that. Other 
parties again, to whose faith and practice he would have 
taken serious exception, have imbibed his spirit of zeal 
and love, and closely resemble him in all that makes his 
character noble and his life beautiful. It is confessedly 
difficult to trace spiritual influences through all their 
subtle operations, and upon this point I would speak with 
caution and reserve ; yet it cannot be denied that not a 
few who would disclaim all connexion with him, even 



520 



LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 



the most remote, owe to him and to the early Methodists 
their spiritual life. One party may savour of Borne, and 
the other of rationalism ; but the sincere attention of both 
to religion is infinitely better than the formality and utter 
godlessness which prevailed when Whitefield lifted up 
his voice in the fields. The whole Church of England 
has been moved by the wave which first lifted on its 
breast only a small section of her people, though parties 
have drifted in different directions. 

(4.) That he helped to revive the churches of the 
Dissenters. His own chapels fell into their hands ; and 
in many of their favourite preachers, down even to the 
present day, it would not be difficult to trace the in- 
fluence of his popular oratory. But their present leaders, 
their men of middle age, are far removed from his 
theological standpoint, while they cherish the thoughts 
and the heavenly influence which made his ministry so 
mighty. They proclaim an atonement for sin, while dis- 
carding his gross conceptions of the nature of atonement ; 
they insist upon a personal and vital union of spirit with 
Jesus Christ ; they invoke the help of the Holy Ghost, 
feeling that without His power upon preacher and hearer 
no spiritual good can be done. But they say little 
about predestination, and nothing at all about Christ's 
having died for an elect world. 

(5.) That the Church of Scotland was made alive again 
by his numerous visits to Scotland, and his impassioned 
appeals to the slumbering and the dead. Wesley could 
do nothing north of the Tweed ; the people were 6 un- 
feeling,' 4 dead stones,' decent and serious but 4 perfectly 
unconcerned,' they 4 heard much, knew everything, and 
felt nothing ; ' he did not hesitate to say that 4 the hand 
of the Lord was almost entirely stayed in Scotland.' It 
might have occurred to him that where his friend had so 
signally succeeded and he had as signally failed, some 
fault might possibly attach to himself. Scotch journeys 



EESULTS OF WHITEFIELD's WORK. 



521 



were nearly always an unmixed joy to Whitefield because 
of the good lie did ; and it is noticeable that thirty years 
ago, the foremost ministers and the great bulk of the 
members of the Scotch. Church assumed the position of 
the English Dissenters, and made of themselves a 6 Free 
Church.' 

(6.) That the Church in Wales, of all denominations, 
received a remarkable impetus from Methodism, and that 
Whitefield was the first to join hands with the earnest 
men of the Principality. The early representations of the 
Methodists as to the religious condition of the country 
cannot be relied upon, but the following comparative 
table has been carefully prepared by Dr. Eees, and pub- 
lished in his volume on ' Nonconformity in Wales.' It 
gives the number of Nonconformist congregations in 
Wales as 110 in 1716, 105 in 1742, 171 in 1775, 993 in 
1816, 2927 in 1861. The great increase between 1775 
and 1816 was owing to the separation of the Calvinistic 
Methodists from the Established Church, which took 
place in 1811 ; and from 1816 to 1861 the increase is the 
result of the zeal and labours of the churches, crowned 
with the blessing of God. Broadly stated, the result of 
Methodism in Wales has been the changing of a nation 
of ignorant irreligious Churchmen into a nation of con- 
scientious Nonconformists, who adhere to their convictions 
in spite of much persecution and disadvantage. Whitefield 
neither desired nor sought the nonconformity ; but, as 
in the case of Scotland, an intense religious life would 
have freedom of action. 

(7.) That in America he founded the Presbyterian 
church of Virginia, 1 and helped more than any man 
to triple the ministers of the New York Synod within 
seven years, 2 and to bring into existence a hundred and 
fifty congregational churches in less than twenty years. 3 

1 < The Great Awakening.' By Joseph Tracy, pp. 374-384. 

2 Ibid. p. 386. s Ibid. p. 389. 



522 LIFE AND TRAVELS OF GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 

His labours materially aided the building of Princeton 
College and Dartmouth College. 1 They also produced 
the same effect upon church government in America 
which we have seen to have been produced in Scotland, 
England and Wales. The spiritual life would not be 
fettered ; and the union between church and state was 
broken. 2 

What did Whitefield accomplish ? He founded churches 
and inaugurated religious revolutions by a sermon. His 
last sermons — those which he preached within a few days 
of his death — touched the heart of a young man named 
Eandall ; his death sealed all the holy impressions as with 
the mark of God ; and that young man shortly after- 
wards founded the Free- Will Baptist Church, now fifty 
thousand strong, in the United States. 3 His works do 
follow him. 

Could his hand add one word to this record of his life 
and its fruits, it would be this — 4 Grace ! Grace ! Grace ! ' 
For his sake, then, and especially for the sake of Him 
who came bringing grace and truth with Him, it shall be 
inscribed as the last word here — GKACE. 



1 1 History of Methodism/ p. 397. 



2 Ibid. p. 370. 



3 Ibid. 



INDEX. 



ABB 

ABBOTT, JOHN, opposes W. at 
Basingstoke, 155 
Aberdeen, 266-7 
Abingdon, the minister of, 210 
Acting, W.'s opinion concerning, 28 
Actors, their opinion of W.'s preaching, 

467-9 ; caricature W., 474-6 
Adams, Mr., of Hampton, the persecu- 
tion of, 309-10 
Anecdotes, 3, 179, 187, 225, 249, 251-3, 
274, 288 note, 352, 354, 388-90, 
407, 408, 412 note, 421, 425, 461 
note, 466-70, 475 note, 485-9, 495, 
503-4 

Associate Presbytery, the, Ealph 
Erskine preaches before, 189; the 
views of, 189-91; first negotiations 

. of, with W., 189-91 ; W. invited to 
preach for, 252-5 ; W. preaches for, 
258 ; confers with W. about joining 
them, 259-64; anger of, with W., 
277 ; condemns the Cambuslang re- 
vival, 288 ; Webster, of Edinburgh, 
deplores the uncharitableness of, 296 

Atonement, the, W.'s view of, 343-6 ; 
Law's view of, 346 note 

Augustine, St., the ' confessions ' of, 3 
note 



BARBER, Mr., appointed one of the 
superintendents of Bethesda, 239 ; 
letter from W. to, about the accounts 
of Bethesda, 256 ; is imprisoned, 
297 

Bargrave, Mrs., 10 note 

Barry, Mr., tells a story of W.'s 

preaching, 388-90 
Basingstoke, W. ill used at, 155-9 
Bate, Rev. Mr., writes a pamphlet 

against W., 165 
Bath, 63, 492 

Beauclerk, Lord Sidney, hears W. 
preach, 302 



BOL 

Bedford, W. preaches at, 147 

Belcher, Jonathan, receives W. to 

Boston, 226 ; bids W. farewell, 233 
Benezet, Anthony, the character of, 

213 note 
Bennet, Dr., 230 note 
Bennet, John, marries Grace Murray, 

414 

Benson, Dr., Bishop of Gloucester, sends 
for W., 31-2 ; ordains W., 33 ; makes 
W. a present, 37 ; approves of W.'s 
design to go to America, 46 ; ordains 
W. priest, 102 ; admonishes W., 153- 
4 ; interview between, and Lady 
Huntingdon, 381 ; the death of, 440 

Bermondsey Church, W. preaches at, 
103 

Bermudas visited by W., 366-74 
Berridge, Rev. Mr. ; his view of Me- 
thodism and the Established Church, 
465 

Beth]ehem Hospital, 140 

Bexley, W. denied the church at, 150 

Bibliomancy, Wesley practises, 127-8; 

W. disapproves of, 402 
Birstal, W.'s preaching at, 412 
Biscay, the Bay of, W. in a storm in, 

76 

Bishops, the, assail W., 328-34 ; an- 
swered by W M 340-3 

Bisset, Rev. Mr., preaches against W., 
267-7 

Blackheath, W. and Wesley at, 149 

Blair, Rev. Mr., 215, 357 

Bocardo, W. preaches in, 23 

Bohler, Peter, teaches Wesley the doc- 
trine of justification by faith, 99 ; 
W. apologises to, 267-8 ; differences 
between, and W., 442-4 

Bolingbroke, Lord, goes to hear W. 
preach, 378 ; his character given by 
Lady Huntingdon, 385 ; offers to de- 
fend Calvinism, 386 

Bolton, the Duke of, 302 



524 



INDEX. 



BOL 

Boltzius, Pastor, 94 

Bonar, Eev. Mr., attends the Cambus- 
lang meetings, 291 

Bosomworth, Mr., his conduct in Geor- 
gia, 51-2 

Boston (U.S.), W.'s first visit to, 225- 
33 ; effects of W.'s preaching at, 
352-6 

Boston's ' Fourfold-state of Man,' W. 

reads, 189 
Boulter, Dr., Primate of Ireland, 96 
Brainerd, Eev. D., compared with W., 

173 note ; W. teaching the converts 

of, 356 

Breferton, the conversion of the clerk 
of, 152-3 

Breton, Cape, the expedition to, 355 

Bristol, the first triumphs of W. at, 47, 
fiO-3 ; W. expelled the churches at, 
107-9 ; Wesley preaches in the open 
air at, 131 ; the tabernacle at, 447 

Brockden, Mr., the conversion of, 237-8 

Broughton, Eev. Mr., 13 

Buckingham, the Duchess of, 303-4 

Bunyan, John, Wesley's opinion of, 227, 
242 ; W. writes a preface to the works 
of, 505 

Burscough, Dr., Bishop of Limerick, 

receives W. kindly, 96 
Barton, Dr., suggests that Wesley 

should go to Georgia, 53 



CALVINISM, as held by W., 175; 
Wesley denounces, 240 ; W. de- 
fends, 240-2 
Cambridge (U.S.), W. judges the stu- 
dents of, harshly, 229 
Cambuslang, the great revival at, 281- 
9 ; the Seceders appoint a day of hu- 
miliation for the revival at, 289 ; the 
second celebration of the Lord's Sup- 
per at, 290-1 ; the Cameronians as- 
sail the work at, 291-3 
Cameronians, the ' Declaration.' &c, of 

the, 291-3 
Cardiff, W. disturbed at, 123 
Carmarthen, W. honoured at, 307 
Carolina, slavery in, 201-5 
Carrickaholt Bay, W. reaches, 96 
Castaniza's ' Spiritual Combat,' W. reads, 
21 

Causton, Sophia, attempts to inveigle 

Wesley, 54 
Causton, Mr., treats W. politely, 85, 

94 

Cennick, John, aids W., 250 ; joins the 

Moravians, 363 ; his death, 454-5 
Charleston, W. reproves a gay congrega- 



DOD 

tion at, 194; W. repelled from the 
Lord's table at, 220 ; W. cited before 
Mr. Garden at, 221 ; a writ served 
upon W. at, 243-4. 

Chesterfield, Earl of, compliments W., 
378 ; contributes to the Bristol Taber- 
nacle, 447 note; the excitement of, 
under W.'s preaching, 466-7 

Chesterfield, Lady, rallied by the king 
for her Methodism, 421 

Church. Eev. Thomas, writes a letter to 
W., 332-4 

Clap, the Eev. Mr., 225, 230 

Class Meetings, 37 

Clergy, the, find fault with W., and 
close their pulpits against him, 70; 
W. summonsed for libelling, 243-4 ; 
persecute the Methodists, 309 ; W. 
assails the conduct of some of, 330-4 

Cole, Mr., of Gloucester, rudely treated 
by the boy W., 3 ; his love of anec- 
dotes, 3 ; signs himself W.'s curate, 
131; his death, 132; his 'tump' at 
Quarhouse, 305 

Cole, Elisha, W. recommends Wesley to 
read, on Divine Sovereignty, 227 

Colman, Dr., invites W. to New Eng- 
land, 223 

Coward's Trustees, their treatment of 
Dr. Doddridge, 322 

Cumberland, the Duke of, at the Taber- 
nacle, 301 

Cumming, Thomas, answers Eev. Mr. 
Bate, 166 



DAGGE, Mr., tries to retain W. as 
the preacher at Newgate, 123; 
shows kindness to Savage, 270 note 
Darracott, Eev. Mr., defended by Dr. 

Doddridge, 326 
Deal, W. and Wesley at, 73 
Deism, the relation of Dissenters to, 
319-20 

Delamotte, Mr., labours in Georgia, 45 ; 
welcomes W. to Savannah, 83 ; be- 
loved by the poor, 92 

Delany, Dr., how, wished to preach, 97 

Delitz, Countess, becomes an active 
Methodist, 388 

Dissenters, the, W. is friendly with, 71 ; 
the work of Dr. Doddridge amongst, 
147 ; some of, hostile to W., 319-27 ; 
W. brings many of, to church, 458 ; 
Methodists become politically, 463-6 

Dissenters, the, in Wales, 116-22 

Dixon, Dr., pleads the cause of some 
Methodist students, 498 

Doddridge, Dr., receives W. cour- 



INDEX, 



525 



DEE 

teously, 147 ; is assailed for counte- I 

nancing W. and Methodism. 319-27 ; ! 

the parentage of, 379 note ; visits 

Lady Huntingdon, 480 ; the death 

of, 440 
Dreams, the, of W., 10, 31 
Drelincourt, Eev. Mr., W. reads his book 

on 'Death,' 10 and note 
Dublin, W. entertained at, 96 ; W. 

stoned at, 471-3 
Dummer, W. acts as clergyman at, 

43-5 

Dunfermline. W. preaches at, 257 : "W". 

has an interview with the Associate 

Presbytery at, 259-60 
Durell, Dr., prosecutes six Methodist 1 

students at Oxford, 498 

ECCLESL1STICAL, the, position of 
W., 261, 459 
Edinburgh, W.'s first arrival at, 257 ; 
W.'s first sermon in, 258 ; the excite- 
ment of, about TV'., 264-5 ; W.'s lore 
for, 302 ; W.'s last visit to, 499 
Edwards, Elizabeth, marries Thomas 

Whitefield, 2 
Edwards. Dr., influence of his book on I 
W., 174 

Edwards, Jonathan, receives W., 233 
Election, the doctrine of, W. embraces, 
174-6 ; W. expresses his pleasure in, 
190 ; becomes a controverted point 
between Wesley and W., 199, 217, 
21S, 224, 225. 227 
Eliot, the Apostle of the Indians, 230 
' Enthusiasm and Lukewarmness,' 
Bishop G-ibson's pastoral letter on, 
161-5" 

Enthusiasm, Dr. Doddridge on, 321 ; 
the Bishop of Lichfiehfon, 348-9; 
Bishop Lavington on the, of Metho- ! 
dists and Papists, 396-401 

Erskine, Ebenezer, informs W. of his 
success, 148; description of, 189; \ 
W. replies to, on the subject of join- 
ing the Associate Presbytery, 253 ; 
replies again to W., 254 : describes 
the religious state of Scotland, 257 ; j 
tries to make W. join the Secession, i 
260 ; unfriendly towards W., 277 ; 
W. grieves to lose the fellowship of, 
281 ; and his co-religionists appoint 
a day of humiliation on account of 
W.'s work, 2S9 ; the death of, 440 

Erskine. Balph, W. declares his love 
for, 189 ; negotiations between, and 
W.. 189-91 ; entreats W. to join the 
Secessionists, 252-3; entertains W. i 



GEO 

at his house, 257-8 : goes with W. 
into the pulpit of Canongate church, 
261 ; is disappointed at W.'s de- 
cision, 263 ; friendly meeting be- 
tween, and W., 427 ; the death of, 
440 

' Evangelical School,' the 42-3 
Exeter, W. stoned at, 409 ; riot at, 409 

note 



FAWCETT. Eev. Mr., is defended bv 
W., 327 

Fenelon, his doctrine of disinterested 
love, 21 

Eerrers. Earl, the trial and death of, 
477 

Eetter Lane, Methodist meetings in, 

99, 101 
Fletcher. John, 379 note 
Eog's Manor, an excited congregation 

at, 215 

Eoote, Samuel, hears W. preach, 467 ; 
writes and performs a comedv on W., 
475-6 

Foundry, the. Wesley tears T\ .'s letter 
at, 243 ; W. regrets the nearness of 
the tabernacle to, 250 

Fox, George, the identity of some of his 
doctrines with W.'s, 127 

Franck, Professor, W. reads his treatise 
on ' The Fear of Man,' 15 ; the or- 
phan-house of, referred to, 94, 172, 
249 

Franklin, Benjamin, thinks the publica- 
tion of W.'s sermons a mistake, 66 ; 
W. preaches in front of the shop of, 
177; hears W. preach, 178: yields 
to W.'s power, 179 ; notices W. in his 
newspaper, 188: wonders at the 
effects of W.'s preaching, 211 : a scene 
in the shop of, 212 note; relates an 
anecdote of W., 274 note; is ap- 
pointed a trustee of the orphan-house, 
516 



GAEDEN, Commissary, is changed 
from a friend of W. into an enemy, 
194 ; denies W. the Lord's Supper, 
220 ; cites W. to appear before him, 
221 

Garrick, David, hears W. preach, 467; 
his jealousy, 474 ; promises his help 
to exclude the ' Minor ' from the 
stage, 476 ; gives an extravagant 
illustration of W.*s power, 489 note 

Georgia, John and Charles Wesley 
labour in, 40 ; W. invited to go to, 



526 



INDEX. 



GIB 

45 ; formation of the colony of, 48- 
50 ; W. appointed chaplain to, 58 ; 
W. pleads for the introduction of 
slavery into, 390-3 

Gib, Adam, acts as one of the Associate 
Presbytery, 259 ; writes a warning 
against W.'s ministrations, 277~81 ; 
repents of his warning, 289 

Gibraltar, W. labours at, 77-80 

Gibson, Dr., Bishop of London, writes 
a pamphlet against W., 161-5 

Gladman, Captain, is introduced to W., 
167-70 ; aids W., 197 ; is sent to 
England on behalf of the orphan- 
house, 212-13 

Gloucester, the birthplace of W., 2 ; a 
Methodist society formed at, 26 ; W. 
ordained at, 33 ; W. preaches his 
first sermon at, 36 ; W.'s child dies 
at, 314-16 

Goldsmith, Oliver, the supposed effects 
of his ' Vicar of Wakefield' upon the 
condition of prisoners, 62 note ; is 
befriended by Shuter, the comedian, 
468 

Grace, Free, Wesley's sermon on, 199, 

227-8, 240; W. answers Wesley's 

sermon on, 240 
Grimshaw, Rev. William, the character 

and labours of, 410-12 ; the death 

of, 484-7. 



HABERSHAM, Mr., sails with W. to 
Georgia, 81 ; chooses the site of 
the orphan-house, 195; appointed to 
manage the temporal affairs of the 
orphan-house, 239 ; is imprisoned, 
297 ; appointed president of the Com- 
mons House of Assembly, 454 
Hall, Robert, the early difficulties of, 39 
Hall, Bishop, W. quotes, 276 
Hampton, riots at, 309-11 ; trial of the 

rioters, 318-19 
Handel among the Methodists, 509 
Hannam Mount, W. first preaches in the 
open air on, 108 ; Wesley and W. on, 
129 

Hardy, Mr., appointed one of the trustees 
of W.'s chapels, 479 

Harvard College, the president, &c, of, 
attack W., 354 

Harris, Howel, the character and work 
of, described, 117-21; W. follows the 
example of, 158; letter from W. to, 
172 ; joins with the Methodist leaders 
in a hymn in W.'s chapel, 509 

Hastings, Lady Betty, aids W. at Ox- 
ford, 41 ; the death of, 301 note 



IMI 

Haworth, visits of W. to, 412, 426 ; 
solemn effects of W.'s preaching at, 
484-7 

Hayne, John, imprisonment of, 410 
Henry, Matthew, W. reads tho com- 
mentary of, 38, 505 
Hernhuth, Wesley visits, 98-9 
Hervey, James, one of the first Metho- 
dists, 13 ; a convert of W., 23 ; com- 
plimented by W. on his appearance 
as an author, 377 ; letter from W. to, 
407 ; lives in W.'s house, 429 ; W. 
uses the friendship of, 432 
Hervey, Lord, hears W. at the taber- 
nacle, 302 

Hinchinbroke, Lady, becomes a convert 
to Methodism, 304 

'Holy Club,' the, Wesley called the 
father of, 13; W. joins, 17 

Holy Ghost, the operations of the, Dr. 
Gibson on, 161-3 ; W. on. 163-5, 172, 
228, 348-50, 483-4; Bishop War- 
burton on, 480-2 

Horneck, Dr., founds religious societies 
in London, 99 

Hotham, the Hon. Miss, the death of, 
427-9 

Hume, David, his opinion of W.'s 

preaching, 378 
Humility, W.'s prayer for, 19 ; evidences 

of W.'s, 222, 382-3, 419, 512 
Huntingdon, Earl of, letter from Bishop 

Benson to, 102 note; the death of, 

381-2 

Huntingdon, the Countess of, attends 
the tabernacle, 301 ; letters from the 
Duchess of Marlborough to. 302-3; 
letter from the Duchess of Bucking- 
ham to, 303-4 ; invites W. to preach 
at her house, 378 ; appoints W. one 
of her chaplains, 379 ; some account 
of her religious life, 380-2 ; the re- 
ligious services at the house of, 385- 
90, 421 ; a leader, 420-1 ; illness of, 
424-31 ; kindness of, to C. Wesley, 
449 ; the relation of, to Dissent, 465- 
6 ; attempts to suppress the 'Minor,' 
476 ; builds a chapel at Bath, 492 ; 
union between, and the Wesleys, 492- 
4 ; founds Trevecca College, 502 

Hyde Park, W. preaches in, at midnight, 
422 



' TMITATION of Christ,' W. reads. 8 ; 
X Impressions, W. led by, 164, 172; 
Jonathan Edwards cautions W. 
against, 234 ; W. sees his mistake 
about, 314 



IKDEX. 



527 



IND 

Indians, the, W. visits, 356 

Ingham, Benjamin, one of the first 

Methodists, 13 ; sails for Georgia, 49 ; 

accompanies Wesley to Hernhuth, 98 ; 

W. preaches among the societies of, 

426 

Ireland, W.'s visits to, 96-7, 436, 471-3 
Irving, Edward, his early difficulties, 

39 ; his strength of voice, 139 note 
Islington, a meeting of Methodist mini- 
sters at, 101 ; W. preaches in the open 
air in the churchyard of, 134 



JOHNSON, Dr., comparison between 
W. and, as students, 12; his 
opinion of W.'s preaching, 233, 508 ; 
his remark upon actors, 475 
Jones, Noble, quells an outbreak of the 
Indians, 52 ; examines the accounts 
of the orphan-house, 490 
Jone.«, Rev. Griffith, his work in Wales 

described, 114-17 
Jones, Rev. Ebenezer, the influence of 

his home upon W., 270 
Justification, the doctrine of, W. on, 
190; contention about, 211; W.'s 
view of, 343-6 



KEEN, Mr. Robert, appointed a 
trustee of W.'s chapels, 479 
Ken's ' Manual for Winchester 

Scholars,' W. reads, 6 
Kennington Common, W. preaches on, 

137, 149; the collections at, 138 
Kingswood, the condition of, described, 
106-7 ; W. preaches to the colliers 
of, 108, 110, 112-13; W. lays the 
foundation of a school at, 130 ; effects 
of W.'s teaching upon the colliers of, 
152 ; W. denied the use of the school 
at, 251 

Kinsman, Rev. Mr., his interview with 

Shuter, 468-9 
Kirk of Scotland, W. and the, 255, 

257-8 



LAVING-TON, Bishop, writes against 
W., 396-401 ; threatens the Rev. 
Mr. Thompson, 408 ; sees W. stoned, 
409 ; the bad state of his diocese, 
409 note 

Law, William, his ' Serious Call,' and 
' Christian Perfection ' read by W., 
12 ; his ' Ourania ' copied by W„ 44; 
his estimate of human nature, 276 ; 
his view of the atonement, 346 note; 



MOR 

his ' Serious Call ' gospelised by W., 

374, 505 
Leith, W. lands at, 257, 277 
Letters, 170-2, 184, 216, 223, 240,248, 

256, 296, 302-4, 348-50, 357, 359, 

364-5, 377, 383-4, 403, 405, 431, 439, 

442-6, 448-50, 498, 511-12 
Lichfield, the Bishop of, W. writes a 

letter in answer to, 348-50 
' Life of God in the Soul of Man,' its 

happy effect upon W., 16 
Limerick, W. preaches in the cathedral, 

96 

Lisbon, W. visits, 451-3 
Lisburne, Lady, 304 
Long Acre Chapel, disturbances at, 
456-9 

Longden, Mr., marries W.'s mother, 5 
London, W.'s early efforts in, 38, 68-9 ; 

the religious societies of, 99, 100 
Lonsdale, Lord, 302 
Love-Eeast, 99 

Ludgate prison, W. preaches in, 40 



MACKAY, Captain, the conversion 
of, 81 

Marlborough, the Duchess of, hears 

W. preach, 302-3 
Maryland, slavery in, 201-5 
Mary-le-Bone fields, W. preaches in, 

275 

McCulloch, Rev. W., his work at Cam- 

buslang, 282-7, 289-90 
Methodists, the ; their rise at Oxford, 

13; are joined by W., 13 ; their rules 

of living, 1 7 ; under the Toleration 

Act, 463-6 ; their superstitious regard 

for last words, 477-8 
Methodism in Wales; its rise, 114-23 ; 

W. helps to promote, 306-8, 521 
' Methodism Display'd,' Rev. Mr. Bate 

writes, 165 
Ministers, W.'s influence among, 210, 

519 

'Minor,' the, written and acted by 
Eoote, 475-7 

Moncrieff, Alexander, forms one of the 
Associate Presbytery, 259, 261 

Moody, Rev. Mr., 230, 351 

Moorfields, W.'s first sermon in, 135-7 ; 
his second, 138; the love for W. of 
the congregations at, 148, 308 ; the 
tabernacle built in, 250 ; W. preaches 
in, at Whitsuntide, 272-7; the collec- 
tions at, 308 

Morality, W. on the connexion between 
religion and, 64-5 

Morgan, Mr., one of the first Metho- 



528 



INDEX. 



MOR 

dists, 13 ; his labours in prisons, 63 

note 

Moravians, the, disapprove of slavery, 
50; practise easting lots, 74 note ; 
W. accuses them of drawing away 
his friends, 248, 393 ; W. writes an 
expostulatory letter upon their faults, 
442-7 

Morris, Mr., founds the Virginian 

Church, 357 
Musgrove, Mary, heads an outbreak of 

the Indians, 51-2 




'EAL, Nathanael, his letters to Dr. 
Doddridge, 322-7 



Negro boy, funeral of a, 82 ; anecdote 
of a, 206 ; anecdote of a Negro 
woman, 352 

Negroes, W.'s remembrance of the, 191 ; 
W.'s adventures among, 193-4 ; W. 
rebukes their owners for their mise- 
rable condition in Maryland, Virgi- 
nia, and Carolina, 201-7 ; the love of 
some for W., 222 ; W. preaches to the, 
of Bermudas, 371—3 

Newark (U.S.), extraordinary effects of 
W.'s preaching at, 236 

New Birth, the, W. passes through, 
16; W. preaches in London the doc- 
trine of, 40 ; Dr. Gibson on, 162; 
preached in Scotland, 282 

New England, W.'s first visit to, 223- 
35 ; W.'s impressions of 234-5 ; let- 
ters upon the condition of religion in, 
293-5 

New York, W. invited to, 181-2 ; W.'s 
first visit to, 182-5 ; W.'s arduous 
labours in. 213 ; wonderful effects of 
W.'s preaching, 236 

Noble, Mr., invites W. to New York, 
181-2; letter from W. to, 261-3 

Northampton, W. preaches on the race- 
course at, 147 

Northampton (U.S.), W. visits Jonathan 
Edwards at, 233 

Nottingham (U.S.), physical effects of 
W.'s preaching at, 214 



OGILVIE, Mr., welcomes W. to Aber- 
deen, 266-7 
Oglethorpe, General, befriends pri- 
soners, 48-9 ; founds the Georgian 
colony, 49 ; his views of slavery, 50 ; 
treats C. Wesley unkindly, 56-7 ; 
receives W., 58 ; C. Wesley and, 
think of building an orphan-house, 
88 ; aids W. in his work, 298 ; a link 



PEA 

between W. and the literary world, 

508 

Open-air preaching, W. first thinks of, 
103; W.begins,108; W. justifies, 110, 
330-2 ; W. induces Weslev to adopt. 
129-31 ; W. begins, in London, 134 ; 
W. exhorts others to use, 167 ; in 
America, 188, 357, 361-2; resumed 
in England by W., 250; W.'s plan, 
252 ; its happy influence upon W., 
479 ; W. glories in, 499 
Oratory, W.'s estimate of, 86, 452 ; cha- 
racteristics of W.'s, 135-6, 345 note, 
504-5 ; Hume's estimate of W.'s, 
378 ; Lord Chesterfield's, 447 note 

\ Ordination, the, of W., 29-33 ; W. 
changes his view with respect to. 260 
Orphan-house, Oglethorpe and C. Wes- 
ley decide to build an, 88 ; the 
scheme adopted by W., 89 ; its in- 
fluence upon the character of W., 90 ; 
W. collects money for the, 138-9 ; 
Habersham chooses a site for the, 195 ; 
work done before the opening of the, 
195-8 ; W. lays the foundation-stone, 
198-9 ; W. sends for a manager for 
the, 213 ; how W. was loved by the 
children, 216 ; opened. 239 ; how thev 
lived at, 239,300; W. in danger of 
arrest for the debts of, 248 ; W. pravs 
for help for, 249, 304; W.'s tender 
interest in the children, 251,256 ; 
subscribers to, 252 ; troubles from 
debt, from managers, from magis- 
trates, and from the Spaniards, 297- 
9, 462 ; W. writes an account of, 299- 
300; Moorfields' congregations freeW. 
from the debts, 308 ; W.'s gratitude 
for help, 359 : the accounts audited, 
360-1 ; W.'s knowledge of the work- 
ing, 454 ; W.'s plan of paying the 
officials, 462 ; W. purposes to add a 
college to the house, 489-90, 494-7 ; 
W.'s last visit, 510 ; its history after 
W.'s death, 516-17 

i Ottery church bells rung against W., 305 
Oxford, W. wishes to go to, 7 ; arrange- 
ments made to send W. to, 9 ; W.'s 
life at, 11, 28, 37. 41 ; W. is threat- 
ened by the Vice-Chancellor of, 132- 

| 3 ; expulsion of Methodist students 
from. 497-9 
Oxford, the Earl of, 304 

< Oxmantown Green, W. assaulted on, 
471-3 



lEAECE. Dr. Z., countenances the 
disturbances at Long Acre chapel, 



INDEX. 



529 



PEM 

457 ; W. writes to, concerning the 
disturbances, 457-60 
Pemberton, Eev. Mr., W.'s apology for 
fancied rudeness to, 183-4 ; W. 
preaches in the meeting-house of, 
235-6 

Pembroke College, W. decides to enter, 
9; becomes a servitor in, 11; the 
conduct of Dr. Johnson and of W. at, 
compared, 12 

Penn, Wm., son of, is assailed by Mr. 
Seward, 212 and note 

Perfection, the doctrine of, 199, 226-7, 
242 

Periam, Joseph, is taken from prison 
by W., 140-5 ; sails with W. to 
Georgia, 169 ; W. writes to the father 
of, 171 

Pepperell, Colonel, commands the Cape 
Breton expedition, 355-6 

Philadelphia, W.'s first visit to, 176-81 ; 
W. leaves amid a great company, 
188-9; the excitement concerning 
W., 210-13; a hall built for W., 
237 ; the conversion of the recorder 

, of, 237-8; W. invited to become a 
minister in, 356 

Philips, Sir John ; his annuity to W., 

32- 3 

Plymouth, the adventures of W. at, 

33- 1-8 

Portsmouth, Mr. J., confession made to, 
159 

Potomac, W. describes the, 192 
Poupon, W.'s illness at, 221 
Praver, extemporaneous, W. first uses, 
100 

Prisons, W. labours in, 23, 37, 40, 62 

and note, 123 
Puritans and Puritanism in America, 

223-7, 230 
Puritan theology, its influence upon W., 

174-5 



QUAKERS, their friendly relations 
with W., 61, 126-7. 132, 152, 159, 
166, 170, 176-7, 205, 213, 227, 258, 
275, 290 
Queensbury, the Duchess of, 304 
Quietism, W. is led by C. Wesley to- 
wards, 15; W. adopts, 20_2 ; W. re- 
linquishes, 22 



EACES, W. preaches at. 159-60 
Reprobation, the doctrine of, W. 
defends, 227 ; W. practically relin- 
quishes, 365 



SMI 

Righteousness Imputed, the doctrine of, 

174, 186 
Rhode Island, 223, 225 
Rogers, Rev. Mr., of Ipswich (U.S.), 

230 

Rogers, Rev. Mr., of Bedford, 147 
Robe, Rev. Mr., condemns the ' Act ' of 

the Associate Presbytery, 288 
Romaine, Rev. Wm., chaplain to the 

Countess of Huntingdon, 379 and 

note 

Rose Green, W. preaches on, 129 
Rundel, Dr., 96 



SABBATH, the, its observance in New 
England, 230 
Sabine, General, welcomes W. to Gib- 
raltar, 78 

Saltzburgers invited to settle in Georgia, 
49 ; prosperity of their settlement, 
94 

Sanctification, the doctrine of, 190 
Savage, Richard, imprisoned at Bristol, 
270 note 

Savannah, W.'s pastoral life in, 83-94 ; 

W.'s second visit to, 195 ; religious 

excitement in, 216 
Scotland, the results of W.'s work in, 

520-1 
Sea Islands, the, 52 
Selwyn, Lady, makes W. a present, 31 
Sermons by W, 66-7, 136-7, 286, 316- 

18, 344-7 

Sewal, Dr., W. preaches in the meeting- 
house of, 230 

Seward, William, his character described, 
169 ; sails with W. to America, 169 ; 
visits Philadelphia with W., 176 ; his 
story of a Negro boy, 206 ; his un- 
wise zeal, 211-13; consequences of 
his death to W., 248 

Sheffield. Charles Wesley opposed at, 
415-18; W.'s spiritual triumph at, 
418, 426 

Sherburne, Mr., persuades W. to coun- 
tenance the Cape Breton Expedition, 
355 

Shirley, Lady Fanny, 387 

Shuter, Mr., his love for W., 467 ; his 
religious indecision, 468-9 

Sinclair, Major ; his kindness to W.. 78 

Slavery, forbidden in Georgia, 50 ; its 
effects condemned by W., 201-5 ; 
W.'s unsatisfactory views on, 205-6, 
300, 359 ; W. pleads for its intro- 
duction into Georgia, 390-3 ; is in- 
troduced, 432-4 

Smith, Rev. Mr., of Charleston, 220 



M M 



530 is 

SMO 

Smollett, Tobias, 122 
Sortilegium is practised by Wesley, 74- 
5 ; is practised by the Moravians, 
74 note; decides that Wesley shall 
join W., 12S; determines Wesley to 
publish his sermon on ' Free Grace,' 
199 ; W. does not practise, 402 
Sovereignty, the Divine, 227 
Spaniards attack Georgia, 298 
St. G-ennis, W. is desired to visit, 312 ; 

the Key. Mr. Thompson of, 408, 423 
Sc. John, Lord, the death of, 385 
St. Mary de Crypt, Gloucester ; W. in, as 
a boy, 5; the school of, 5; W. 
preaches his first sermon in, 36 ; W. 
baptises a Quaker in, 132 
Stoddard, Rev. Mr., 233 
Stonehouse, W. labours at, 60 
Ston-bouse, Rev. Mr., is favourable to 

Methodism. 134 
Stonhouse, Dr., his fear of being 
thought a Methodist, 405-6 ; fear is 
conquered, 424 
Suffolk, the Countess of, 387 



WES 

Tottenham Court chapel, W. builds, 
463 ; is called ' W.'s Soul Trap,' 466 ; 
W. wishes to put it under the protec- 
tion of the Countess of Huntingdon, 
466 ; the congregations of, 466-7 

Tower chapel, W. preaches at the, 38 

Townshend, Lady, 386-7 

Trevecca College is opened, 502 




EAL. Mrs., the apparition of, 10 

note 



' Yeritax Redux,' W. recommends Wes- 
ley to read, 227 

Virginia, slavery in. 201-5 ; the for- 
mation of the Presbyterian Church in, 
357 

Yovages. W.'s ; his first. 72-83 ; second, 
94-7; third. 169-76; fourth, 244-5; 
fifth, 339-51; sixth, 374-6 ; seventh, 
437; eighth, 437 ; ninth, 451 ; tenth, 
454 ; eleventh, 487 ; twelfth, 490-1 ; 
thirteenth, 510 



TABERNACLE, the, is built for W., j 
249-50, 275; is attended by the 
nobility, 301-4 ; W.'s son is baptised 
at, 313: Dr. Doddridge preaches at, 
321 ; Wesley preaches at, 420 ; W. 
lives in the house adjoining, 429-30 ; ! 
made a permanent building, 441-2 ; 
W.'s funeral sermon is preached in, 
515 

Tennent, sen-.-, Rev. Mr., visits W.. 
177 ; W. at the house of, 185-6 ; his { 
college, 185-6 

Tennent, Rev. Gilbert, his manner of 
preaching, 182 ; conducts W. and his 
party to New York, 182-6; fears that 
the Scotch Seceders will become ex- 1 
clusiye, 190-1 ; letters from Aaierica 
to Scotland concerning the work of 
W. and, 294-5 

Tennent, Rev. Wm., W. visits. 189. 191 

Tewkesbury, disturbances at, 150-1 

Theatre, W. and the, 455-7 

Thompson, Rev-. Mr., Bishop Laviugton j 
threatens to ungown. 408 ; his feel- 
ings under W.'s preaching, 423 

Thorpe, Rev. Mr., his conversion. 425 

Thorold, Squire, his present to W.. 38 

Tillotson, Archbishop, W. regrets his j 
severe censures on, 249 

Toleration Act, the, and the Methodists, 
463-6 

Tomo Chichi is visited on his death-bed j 
bv.W., 85 



WALES, methodismin, 114-23, 131, 
306-8. 473, 521 
Wales, the Prince of Wales, 301-2, 
434-5 

Walpole, Horace, on Methodism and 
Methodists, 386-8 ; hears Wesley 
preach, 493 

Walters, Rev. Mr., succeeds Eliot, the 
apostle of the Indians, 230 

Wapping chapel, W. at, 41 

Warburton, Bishop, his kindness to 
Doddridge, 320 note ; writes a vindi- 
cation of the office and operations of 
the Holy Spirit from the abuses of 
fanaticism, 479-84 

Warn, Jonathan, influence of his book 
on W., 174 

Watts, Dr., his reception of W., 103; 
expostulates with Doddridge for 
preaching at the tabernacle, 321 ; his 
death, 393 

Webster. Rev. Mr., of Edinburgh, works 
with W., 290-1 : defends W.. 295-6 

Wellington, W. invited to preach at. 
40? 

Wesley, Charles, his first acquaintance 
with W., 14 ; gives W. religious in- 
struction, 15, 22 ; labours in Georgia. 
40, 45, 49, 55-7 ; thinks of building 
an orphan-house. 88 : his verses in 
praise of W, 14, 146, 364, 429; 
threatens to drive Calvin out of 
Bristol, 224 ; strives to prevent the 
breach between his brother and W., 



INDEX. 



531 



WES 

244-6 ; introduces W. to the New- 
castle societies, 413; hinders his 
brother's marriage with Mrs. Grace 
Murray, 415; his dangers at Shef- 
field, 415-18 ; preaches at the time 
of the earthquakes in London, 422 ; 
threatened rupture between John and, 
438-9 ; illness of his wife, 449-50 ; 
union between W., the Countess of 
Huntingdon, John Wesley, and, 492- 
4 ; his last meeting with W, 509 

Wesley, John, is leader of the Metho- 
dists at Oxford, 13 ; instructs W. how 
to gain peace of mind, 22 ; labours in 
Georgia, 40, 45, 49, 53-5, 92; his 
habit of casting lots, 74, 199 ; seeks 
to prevent W. from sailing for Ame- 
rica, 73 ; his conversion, 91-2 ; meets 
W. on his return from Georgia, 97 ; 
is expelled the churches, 98 ; joins W. 
in his work at Bristol, 127-30 ; learns 
from W. to preach in the open air, 
131, 149 ; preaches a sermon on ' Free 
Grace,' 199 ; prints and publishes the 
sermon, 199; the sermon described, 
240 ; the sermon occasions a breach 
between W. and, 199, &c. ; his breach 
with W., 176, 199, 200, 217-20, 223- 
8, 232, 240-7 ; is hindered from 
marrying Mrs. Grace Murray, 414- 
15 ; preaches for W., 420 ; on the 
friendliness of W., 429 ; his serious 
illness, 447 ; his remarks upon W.'s 
appearance, 491 ; forms a union be- 
tween W., Lady Huntingdon, his 
brother, and himself, 492-4 ; his last 
meeting with W., 509 

Whitefield, Andrew, his large family, 1 ; 
establishes the father of W. as a wine 
merchant, 1 

Whitefield, George, his parentage, 1 ; 
his birth, 2 ; his mother's affection 
for him, 2 ; his father's death, 2; his 
childhood, 2 ; his personal appear- 
ance as a child, 2 ; as a young man, 
135-6 ; in middle life, 460-1 ; at the 
close of life, 491 ; his early faults 
and sins, 3 ; his inconsistencies, 4 ; 
his improper use of the Scriptures, 4 ; 
his love of acting, 5 ; school life, 5, 
9 ; his opinion of his education, 6 ; 
leaves school, 6 ; assists his mother 
in the Bell Inn, 6 ; writes sermons, 7 ; 
wishes to go to Oxford, 7 ; his reli- 
gious life at Bristol, 7 ; decides to go 
to Oxford, 9 ; becomes more serious, 
10 ; enters Oxford University, 1 1 ; 
his life there, 12; joins the Metho- 
dists, 13 ; his first interview with 



WHI 

C. Wesley, 14 ; his spiritual struggles 
and new birth, 15-16; his troubles, 
17, 18; adopts Quietism, 20; forms 
a Methodist society at Gloucester, 26 ; 
studies the Scriptures on his knees, 
27 ; his characteristics and habits, 3, 
28, 77, 129, 183, 216, 224, 229-32, 
403-4, 429-30, 469-70, 474,502-5; 
is ordained deacon, 29 ; his first 
sermon, 36 ; preaches at the Tower 
chapel and in Bishopsgate church, 
38-9 ; labours at Dumroer, 43-4 ; is 
invited to Georgia, 45 ; is appointed 
chaplain to Georgia, 58; labours at 
Stonehouse, 59, 60 ; wonderful in- 
fluence of his preaching at Bristol, 
60-3 ; his views on morality and re- 
ligion, 64-5 ; his printed sermons, 
66-7, 357 ; his preaching causes 
great excitement in London, 68-9 ; 
breaks with the clergy, 70 ; his rela- 
tions with the Dissenters, 71, 147, 
319-27, 458-9, 496 ; sails for Geor- 
gia, 72 ; preaches at Deal, 73 ; objects 
to cast lots, 74 note ; his calmness and 
courage in storms at sea, 76, 94-5 ; 
calls at Gibraltar, 77-80 ; his ill- 
nesses, 83, 85, 104, 213, 221-2, 290, 
308, 350-2, 362-3, 379-80, 423-4, 
430, 436, 474, 478-9, 502 ; his first 
visit to Savannah, 83-94 ; sails for 
England, 94 ; arrives in London, 97 ; 
first uses extemporaneous prayer, 100 ; 
is ordained priest, 102 ; begins to 
preach in the open air, 108 ; his emo- 
tion while preaching, 113-14, 124, 
181, 214-16, 345 note; visits Wales, 
114, 122-3, 131, 306-9; his connex- 
ion with Howel Harris, 120-2, 158, 
172, 226, 413, 421, 509 ; his relation 
to the Quakers, 126-7, 132, 152, 159, 
166, 170, 176-7, 205, 213, 227, 258, 
275, 290 ; lays the foundation of 
Kingswood school, 130; preaches in 
Islington churchyard and in Moor- 
fields, 134-6 ; befriends Joseph Pe- 
riam, 140-5 ; his connexion with the 
Erskines (see Ebenezer and Balph 
Erskine) ; is opposed at Basingstoke, 
155-9 ; preaches at races, 159 ; has 
a controversy with Dr. Gibson, 161- 
5 ;. his theology, 174-6; breach with 
Wesley (see John Wesley) ; the heal- 
ing of the breach, 301 ; his courtship, 
207-9 ; his marriage, 269-70 ; his 
domestic life, 453, 500-1 ; his in- 
fluence among ministers, and through 
them, 210, 519 ; the physical effects 
of his preaching in America (where 
2 



532 



INDEX. 



WHI 

they first appeared), 214-15, 236-7, 
340-3 ; in England, 340-3 ; in Scot- 
land, 281-93, 340-3 ; his first visit 
to New England, 223-5 ; is loved by 
children, 232 ; a writ maliciously 
served on, 243 ; loses his popularity, 
248-250 ; has a tabernacle built for 
him, 249-50 ; his resignation under 
his reverses, 251 ; is invited to Scot- 
land, 252-5 ; his estimate of preachers 
and saints, 257 ; his first visit to 
Scotland, 257-69; his ecclesiastical 
position, 261, 459 ; forms friendships 
among the nobility, 269 ; on late 
rising, 271 ; preaches at Whitsun- 
tide in Moorfields and Mary-le-Bone 
fields, 273-7 ; attempts are made to 
assassinate, 159, 276, 325-6, 457 ; a 
warning against his ministrations is 
published by Adam Gib, 277-81 ; 
preaches at Cambuslang, 284-7 ; is 
assailed by the Cameronians for his 
work at Cambuslang, 291-3 ; his 
further work at Cambuslang, 290-4 ; 
his skill at repartee displayed, 294 ; 
vindicates himself from false charges, 
299 ; is heard by the nobility, 301-4, 
378, 385-90, 421, 466-7; defends 
the persecuted Methodists of Hamp- 
ton. 309 ; his adventures at Hampton, 
at Ottery, and at Wedgbury, 310-1 1 ; 
happy effects of his preaching become 
visible, 312 ; birth and death of his 
son, 312-16 ; attends the trial of the 
Hampton rioters. 318-19; is assailed 
by the bishops, 328-34 ; preaches at 
Plymouth, 334-8 ; is assaulted there, 
335-6 ; answers the attack of the 
bishops, 340-3 ; his view of the atone- 
ment, 343-6 ; his behaviour during 
an expected attack at sea, 348 ; his 
answer to the Bishop of Lichfield, 
348-50; visits Boston (U.S.), 352-6 ; 
ranges the woods, 356-7, 361 ; spends 
a winter at Bethesda, 365 ; visits 
Bermudas, 366-74 ; gospelises Law's 
' Serious Call,' 374, 505 ; his ingen- 
uousness in confessing his mistakes, 
375, 396, 401-2 ; is appointed chap- 
lain to the Countess of Hunting- 
don, 379 : his unfortunate bearing 
towards the Countess, 382-3 ; in- 
terview with his tutor, 394 ; his 
diffidence before preaching, 395 ; is 
written against by Bishop Lavington, 
396-401 ; answers the bishop, 401- 
2 ; is assaulted while preaching at 
Exeter, 409 ; his visits to Haworth, 
412, 426, 484-7 ; his first visit to 



WHI 

Leeds, 412 ; and to Newcastle, 413 ; 
interferes between Wesley and Mrs. 
Grace Murray, 414-15 ; his Christian 
graces, 419 ; his remarkable success 
at Sheffield, 418, 426; preaches for 
Wesley the first time since the breach ; 
420 ; preaches in Hyde Park at mid- 
night, 422 ; his adventures on a 
journey to the north, 424-6 ; visits 
Ireland, 436, 471-3 ; writes an ex- 
postulatory letter to Count Zinzen- 
dorf, 442-5 ; opens the tabernacle at 
Bristol, 447 ; sympathises with the 
Wesley s in their afflictions, 449-51 ; 
visits Lisbon, 451-3 ; is struck with 
the gracefulness of the Spanish 
preachers, 452 ; is shamefully treated 
at Long Acre chapel, 456-9 ; builds 
Tottenham Court chapel, 463 ; is 
heard there by actors, 467-9 ; is 
mobbed in Ireland, 471-3 ; builds 
twelve almshouses, 473 ; is mimicked 
on the stage, 475-6 ; visits Earl Fer- 
rers in prison, 477 ; appoints trustees 
of his chapels, 479 ; is assailed by 
Bishop Warburton, 479-84 ; purposes 
to add a college to the orphan-house, 
489-90 ; opens Lady Huntingdon's 
chapel at Bath, 492 ; objects to 
make his proposed college a Church 
of England institution, 494-7 ; de- 
fends the Methodist students of St. 
Edmund Hall, 498-9 ; the death of 
his wife, 500-1 ; opens Trevecca Col- 
lege, 502 ; his writings, 505-7 ; had 
no connexion with the literary men 
of his time, 508-9 ; his last meeting 
with the Wesleys, 509-10 ; sails from 
England for the last time, 510 ; his 
last stay at Bethesda, 510; attends 
an execution, 511 ; his last journey 
and last sermon, 512 ; his death, 513- 
14 ; his funeral, 514-15; the history 
of his orphan-house after his death, 
516-17; the results of his work, 517- 
22 

Whitefield, Mrs. (mother of George), 
her marriage with Thomas White- 
field, 2 ; her character, 2 ; her treat- 
ment of her son, 3, 6, 8, 11 ; marries 
Mr. Longden, 5 ; wishes W. to go to 
Oxford, 9 ; her farewell to her son, 
46 ; receives letters from W., 184, 223, 
296, 357, 377 ; her death, 439 

Whitefield, Bev. Samuel, 1 

Whitefield, Thomas, settles in Bristol, 
1, 2 ; removes to Gloucester, 2 ; his 
death, 2 

Whiteley Creek, W. at, 189, 191 



INDEX. 



533 



WHO 

'Whole Duty of Man/ the, W. con- 
demns, 249 

Willison, Kev.Mr., his unseemly anxiety 
for W.'s piety, 286-7 

Winter, Cornelius, describes W.'s emo- 
tions while preaching, 113-14; com- 
plains of his habit of writing letters, 
171 ; describes W.'s manner of pic- 
turing our Lord's sufferings, 345 note ; 
sails with W. on his last voyage, 510 



ZIN 

Wishart, Mr. George, 293-4 
Woodward, Dr., his religious societies in 
London, 114 



ZINZENDOKF, Count, W.'s expostu- 
latory letter to, 442-3 ; replies to 
W.'s letter, 444 ; prepares for im- 
prisonment, 445-6 




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explanatory prefaces. 4to. Quarterly. 
Gratis. 



Publications. 

Fraser's Magazine. Edited by James 

Axthoxy Feoude, M.A. New Series, 
published on the 1st of each Month. Svo. 
price 2s. 6a 7 . each Number. 

The Alpine Journal : A Record of 

Mountain Adventure and Scientific Obser- 
vation. By Members of the Alpine Club. 
Edited by Leslie Stephen. Published 
Quarterly, May 31, Aug. 31, Nov. 30, Feb. 
28. Svo. price Is. Qd. each No. 



INDEX 



Actor's Modern Cookery 20 

Alcock's Residence in Japan 16 

Allies on Formation of Christendom 14 

Allen's Discourses of Chrysostom 14 

Alpine Guide (The) 16 

Journal 20 

ij Althaes on Medical Electricity 10 

Aenold's Manual of English Literature .. 6 

Abnott's Elements of Physics 8 

Arundines Cami 18 

Autumn Holidays of a Country Parson .... 6 

Atee's Treasury of Bible Knowledge 14 

Bacon's Essays by Whatelt 5 

Life and Letters, by Spedding . . 4 

"Works 5 



Bain's Mental and Moral Science 7 



on the Emotions and Will 7 

on the Senses and Intellect 7 

on the Study of Character 7 

Ball's Guide to the Central Alps 16 

Guide to the Western Alps 16 

Guide to the Eastern Alps 16 

Baring's Staff College Essays 6 

I Batldon's Bents and Tillages 13 

IJ Beaten Tracks 16 

Beckee's Charicles and Gallus 17 



Beneet's Sanskrit-English Dictionary 6 

1 Beenaed on British Neutrality '-. 1 

j Berwick's Porces of the Universe 8 

Black's Treatise on Brewing 20 

Bracelet's Word-Gossip 7 

German-Englisli Dictionary . . 6 

Blackie and Gosse's Poems 18 

' 1 Blaine's Rural Sports 19 

•} Veterinary Art 19 

; Boeene on Screw Propeller 13 

's Catechism of the Steam Engine . . 13 

Examples of Modern Engines . . 13 

Handbook of Steam Engine 13 

Treatise on the Steam Engine 13 

: 1 1 Improvements in the same 13 

■ Bowdlee's Family Shakseeake 18 

}. ' Beamlet- Moose's Six Sisters of the Valley 17 
Bbande's Dictionary of Science, Literature, 

and Art 10 

Beat's (C.) Education of the Feelings .... 7 

Philosophy of Necessity 7 

» On Force 7 

Beowne's Exposition of the 33 Articles 13 

Eetjnel's Life of Beenel 3 

I Buckle's History of Civilisation 2 

i | Bell's Hints to Mothers 20 

Maternal Management of Children . . 20 

I Bensen's God in History 3 

Memoirs 4 



Bunsen (E. De) on Apocrypha 15 

's Keys of St. Peter 15 

Beeke's Vicissitudes of Families 4 

Beeton's Christian Church 3 

Vikram and the Vampire 17 

Cabinet Lawyer 20 

Calveet's Wife's Manual 15 

Caee's Sir R. Whittington 18 

Cates's Biographical Dictionary 4 

Cats and Faelie's Moral Emblems 12 

Changed Aspects of Unchanged Truths 6 

Chesnet's Euphrates Expedition 17 

Indian Polity 2 

Waterloo Campaign 2 

Chesnet's and Reeve's Military Essnys . . 2 

Child's Physiological Essays 11 

Chorale Book for England 11 

Cloegh's Lives from Plutarch 2 

Colenso (Bishop) on Pentateuch and Book 

of Joshua 14 

Commonplace Philosopher in Town and 

Country 6 

Conington's Translation of Virgil's iEneid 18 

Contanseae's Two French Dictionaries . . 6 
Contbeare andHowsoN'sLife and Epistles 

of St. Paul 13 

Coopee's Surgical Dictionary 10 

Copland's Dictionary of Practical Medicine 11 

Cotton's (Bishop) Life 3 

Coelthabt's Decimal Interest Tables .... 20 

Counsel and Comfort from a City Pulpit . . 6 

Cox's (G. W.) Aryan Mythology 3 

Tale of the Great Persian War 2 

Tales of Ancient Greece — 17 

Cox's (T.) Poems 18 

Ceest's Encyclopaedia of Civil Engineering 13 

Critical Essays of a Country Parson 6 

Ceookes on Beet-Root Sugar 13 

Cellet's Handbook of Telegraphy 12 

Cusack's Student's History of Ireland .... 2 

D'Aebigne's History of the Reformation in 

the time of Calvin 2 

Davidson's Introduction to New Testament 14 

Dead Shot (The), by Maeksman 19 

De la Rive's Treatise on Electricity 8 

Denison's Vice-Regal Life 1 

De Tocqueville's Democracy in America . 2 

Diseaeli's Lothair 17 

Novels and Tales 17 

Dobson on the Ox 19 

Dove's Law of Storms 8 

Dotle's Fairyland 11 

Dtee's City of Rome 2 



22 



NEW WOEKS published by LONGMANS and CO. 



Eastlake's Hints on Household Taste .... 12 

History of Oil Painting 11 

Life of Gibson 11 

Edinburgh Review 20 

Edmunds's Names of Places 7 

Elements of Botany 

Ellicott's Commentary on Ephesians 14 

Lectures on Life of Christ 14 

Commentary on Galatians .... 14 

Pastoral Epist. 14 

Philippians,&c. 14 

Thessalonians 14 

Ewald's History of Israel 14 

Fairbairn's Application of Cast and 

Wrought Iron to Building 12 

Information for Engineers .... 12 

Treatise on Mills and Millwork 12 

Iron Shipbuilding 12 

Eaeadat's Life and Letters 4 

Farrar's Chapters on Language 5 

Families of Speech 7 

Felkin on Hosiery & Lace Manufactures. . 13 

Fennel's Book of the Roach 19 

Ffoulkes's Christendom's Divisions 15 

Fitzwygbam on Horses and Stables 19 

Foebes's Earls of Granard 4 

Fowler's Collieries and Colliers 20 

Feancis's Fishing Book 19 

Feaser's Magazine 20 

Feesheield's Travels in the Caucasus — 1G 

Froude's History of England 1 

Short Studies 7 



Ganot's Elementary Physics 8 

Giant (The) 17 

Gilbeet's Cadore 16 

. and Churchill's Dolomites — 16 

Gietin's House I Live In 11 

Gledstone's Life of Whiteeield 3 

Goddaed's Wonderful Stories 17 

Goldsmith's Poems, Illustrated 18 

Gould's Silver Store 7 

Graham's Book About Words 5 

Grant's Ethics of Aristotle 5 

Home Politics 2 

Graver Thoughts of a Country Parson 6 

Gray's Anatomy 11 

Greenhow on Bronchitis 10 

Grove on Correlation of Physical Forces . . 9 

Gurney's Chapters of French History 2 

Gwilt's Encyclopaedia of Architecture .... 12 

Hampden's (Bishop) Memorials 3 

Hare on Election of Representatives 5 

Hartwig's Harmonies of Nature 9 

Polar World 9 

Sea and its Living Wonders .... 9 

■ Tropical World 9 

Haughton's Manual of Geology 9 

Heeschel's Outlines of Astronomy 8 

Hewitt on the Diseases of Women 10 

Hodgson's Time and Space 7 

Theory of Practice 7 



Holmes's Surgical Treatment of Children . . 10 



Holmes's System of Surgery 10 

Hooker and Walker-Arnott's British 

Flora 9 

Hoene's Introduction to the Scriptures . . 14 

Compendium of the Scriptures . . 14 

How we Spent the Summer 16 

Howitt's Australian Discovery 16 

Northern Heights of London 16 

Rural Life of England 16 

Visits to Remarkable Places — 17 

Hubner's Pope Sixtus 3 

Hughes's Manual of Geography 8 

Hume's Essays 7 

Treatise on Human Nature 7 



Ihne's History of Rome 2 

Ingelow's Poems 18 

Story of Doom 18 

Mopsa 18 



Jameson's Legends of Saints and Martyrs . . 12 

- — Legends of the Madonna 12 

Legends of the Monastic Orders 12 

Legends of the Saviour 12 

Johnston's Geographical Dictionary 8 

Jukes on Second Death 15 

on Types of Genesis 15 



Kalisch's Commentary on the Bible 5 

■ Hebrew Grammar 5 

Keith on Destiny of the World 14 

Fulfilment of Prophecy 14 

Keel's Metallurgy, by Crookes and 

Rohrig 13 

Kirby and Spence's Entomology 9 



Latham's English Dictionary 5 

River Plate 8 

Lawlor's Pilgrimages in the Pyrenees 16 

Lecky's History of European Morals 3 

Rationalism 3 

Leisure Hours in Town 6 

Lessons of Middle Age 6 

Lewes's Biographical History of Philosophy 3 

Lewis's Letters 4 

Liddell and Scott's Greek-English Lexicon 6 

Abridged ditto 6 

Life of Man Symbolised 12 

Margaret M. Hallahan 14 

Lindley and Moore's Treasury of Botany 9 

Lindsay's Evidence for the Papacy 14 

Longman's Edward the Third 2 

Lectures on History of England 2 

— Chess Openings 20 

Lord's Prayer Illustrated 11 

Loudon's Encyclopaedia of Agriculture .... 13 

Gardening 13 

Plants 9 

Lowndes's Engineer's Handbook 12 

Lubbock's Origin of Civilisation , — 9 

Lyra Eucharistica 15 

Germanica 11, 15 

Messianica 15 



NEW WORKS published by LONGMANS and CO. 



23 



Lyra Mystica 15 

Macauxay's (Lord) Essays 3 

History of England . . 1 

Lays of Ancient Rome 18 

■ Miscellaneous Writings 7 

■ Speeches 5 

Works 1 



Macfaeben's Lectures on Harmony 11 

Macleod's Elements of Political Economy 5 

Dictionary of Political Economy 5 

Elements of Banking 19 

Theory and Practice of Banking 19 

McCuxxoch's Dictionary of Commerce 19 

Geographical Dictionary .... 8 

Maguibe's Life of Father Mathew 4 

Pius IX 14 

Malex's Overthrow of Germanic Confede- 
ration 2 

Manning's England and Christendom 15 

Mabcet on the Larynx 11 

Marshall's Physiology 11 

Mabsh:uan's History of India 2 

-Life of Havelock 4 

Maetineau's Endeavours after the Chris- 
tian Life 15 

Massingbeed's History of the Reformation 3 

Matheson's England to Delhi 16 

Maundeb's Biographical Treasury 4 

Geographical Treasury 8 

Historical Treasury 3 

Scientific andLiterary Treasury 1 

20 
9 
1 



Treasury of Knowledge. 
Treasury of Natural History 



Mat's Constitutional History of England 

Melville's Digby Grand 17 

General Bounce 17 

Gladiators 17 

Good for Nothing 17 

Holmby House 17 

Interpreter 17 

Kate Coventry 17 

Queen's Maries 17 

Mendelssohn's Letters 4 

Meexvaxe's FaU of the Roman Republic . . 2 

— ; Romans under the Empire 2 

Meebifiexd and Evees's Navigation .... 8 

Mixes on Horse's Foot and Horse Shoeing . 19 

on Horses' Teeth and Stables 19 

Mixx (J.) on the Mind 5 

Mixx (J. S.) on Liberty 4 

Subjection of Women 4 

on Representative Government 4 

on Utilitarianism 4 



■'s Dissertations and Discussions 
-Political Economy 



4 

Mixx's System of Logic 5 

Hamilton's Philosophy 4 

Inaugural Address at St. Andrew's . 4 

Mixxee's Elements of Chemistry 10 

Hymn Writers 15 

Mitchexx's Manual of Architecture 12 

Manual of Assaying 13 

Monsexx's Beatitudes — 15 

15 



His Presence not his Memory. 

' Spiritual Songs ' 15 

Mooee's Irish Melodies 18 

LallaRookh 18 

Journal and Correspondence .... 3 

Poetical Works 18 

(Dr. G.) Power of the Soul over 

the Body 15 



Moeell's Elements of Psychology 7 

Moeell's Mental Philosophy 7 

MfjxxEE's (Max) Chips from a German 

Workshop 7 

Lectures on the Science of Lan- 
guage 5 

■ (K. O.) Literature of Ancient 

Greece 2 

Muechison on Liver Complaints 11 

Muee's Language and Literat ure of Greece 2 



New Testament Illustrated with Wood En- 
gravings from the Old Masters 12 

Newman's History of his Religious Opinions 4 

Nightingale's Notes on Hospitals 20 

Nilsson's Scandinavia 9 

Noethcote's Sanctuary of the Madonna . . 14 

Noethcott on Lathes and Turning 12 

Norton's City of London 16 

Notes on Books 20 

Odxing's Animal Chemistry 10 

Course of Practical Chemistry . . 10 

Manual of Chemistry 10 

Lectures on Carbon 10 

Outlines of Chemistry 10 

O'Fxanagan's Irish Chancellors 4 

Our Children's Story 17 

Owen's Comparative Anatomy and Physio- 
logy of Vertebrate Animals 9 

Lectures on the Invertebrata 9 

Pacer's Guide to the Pyrenees 16 

Paget's Lectures on Surgical Pathology . . 10 

Peeeiea's Manual of Materia Medica 11 

Peekins's Italian and Tuscan Sculptors . . 12 

Pewtnee's Comprehensive Specifier 20 

Pictures in Tyrol 16 

Piesse's Art of Perfumery 13 

Chemical, Natural, and Physical Magic 13 

Ponton's Beginning 9 

Peatt's Law of Building Societies 20 

Peendeegast's Mastery of Languages .... 6 

Peescott's Scripture Difficulties 14 

Present-Day Thoughts, by A. K. H. B 6 

Peoctoe's Handbook of the Stars 8 

Saturn 8 

Other Worlds than Ours 8 

Sun 8 

Rae's Westward by Rail 16 

Recreations of a Country Parson 6 

Reichex's See of Rome 14 

Reixxt's Map of Mont Blanc 16 

Reimann on Aniline Dyes 13 

Retnoxds's Glaphyra 18 

Rixet's Memorials of London 16 

Rivees's Rose Amateur's Guide 9 

Robbins's Cavalry Catechism 19 

Rogees's Correspondence of Greyson 7 

Eclipse of Faith 7 

Defence of Faith 7 

Roget's Thesaurus of English Words and 

Phrases 5 

Roma Sotterranea 16 



24 



NEW WORKS published ey LONGMANS and CO. 



Ronalds's Fly-Fisher's Entomology 19 

Rose's Loyola 14 

Rothschild's Israelites 14 

Rowton's Debater 5 

Rule's Karaite Jews 14 

P.ussell on Government and Constitution 1 
's (Earl) Speeches and Despatches 1 



Sandaes's Justinian's Institutes 5 

Scott's Lectures on the Fine Arts n 

Albert Durer 11 

Seebohm's Oxford Reformers of 149S 2 

Sewell's After Life 17 

Glimpse of the World 17 

History of the Early Church .... 3 

Journal of a Home Life 17 

Passing Thoughts on Religion . . 15 

■ Poems ( f Bygone Years 18 

Preparation for Communion 15 

Principles of Education 15 

Readings for Confirmation 15 

Readings for Lent '. 15 

■ Examination for Confirmation .. 15 

Stories and Tales 17 

Thoughts for the Age 15 

Thoughts for the Holy Week .... 15 

Shakspeare's Midsummer Night's Dream, 

illustrated with Silhouettes 12 

Shipley's Four Cardinal Virtues 14 

Invocation of Saints 15 

Short's Church History 3 

Smart's "Walker's English Dictionaries . . 5 

Smith's (Southwood) Philosophy of Health 20 

(J.) Paul's Voyage and Shipwreck 14 

(Sydney) Life and Letters 3 

Miscellaneous Works . . 7 

Wit and Wisdom 7 

Southey's Doctor 5 

Poetical Works IS 

Stanley's History of British Birds 9 

Stebbing's Analysis of Mill's Logic 5 

Stephen's Ecclesiastical Biography 4 

Playground of Europe 16 

Stirling's Secret of Hegel 7 

Sir William Hamilton 7 

Stonehenge on the Dog 19 

on the Greyhound 19 

Strickland's Tudor Princesses 4 

Queens of England 4 

Strong and Free 7 

Sunday Afternoons at the Parish Church of 

a Scottish University City 6 

Taylor's History of India 2 

(Jeremy) Works, edited by Eden 15 

Thirlw all's History of Greece 2 

Thomson's Conspectus 11 

Laws of Thought 5 

Three Weddings 17 



Todd (A.) on Parliamentary Government . . 1 
and Bowman's Anatomy and Phy- 
siology of Man 11 

Trench's Ieme 17 

Realities of Irish Li r e 2 

Teollo'pe's Barchester Towers 17 

Warden 17 

Twiss's Law of Nations 19 

Tyndall's Diamagnetism 8 

Faraday as a Discoverer 4 

Lectures on Electricity 9 

Lectures on Light 8 

Lectures on Sound 8 

Heat a Mode of Motion;'. 8 

Essays on the Imagination in 

Science 9 

Uncle Peter's Fairy Tale IS 

Ure's Dictionary of Arts, Manufactures, and 

Mines 12 

Van Der Hoeven's Handbook of Zoology . . 9 

Visit to my Discontented Cousin 17 

Warburton's Hunting Songs 18 

Watson's Pri::dples and Practice of Physic 10 

Watts's Dictionary of Chemistry 10 

Webb's Objects for Common Telescopes 8 

Webster & Wilkinson's Greek Testament 14 

Wellington's Life, by Gleig 4 

West on Children's Diseases 10 

on Nursing Children 20 

Whately's English Synonymes 5 

Logic 5 

Rhetoric 5 

White and Riddle's Latin Dictionaries . . G 

Wilcocks's Sea Fisherman 19 

Williams's Aristotle's Ethics 5 

History of Wales 1 

Williams on Climate of South of France. . 10 

Consumption 11 

Willich's Popular Tables 20 

Willis's Principles of Mechanism 12 

Winslow on Light 8 

Wood's (J. G.) Bible Animals 9 

Homes without Hands 9 

(T.) Chemical Notes 10 

Woodward and Catee's Encyclopaedia . . 3 

Yard ley's Poetical Works IS 

Yonge's History of England 1 

English-Greek Lexicons 6 

Two Editions of Horace IS 

Youatt on the Dog 19 

on the Horse 19 

Zeller's Socrates 3 

Stoics, Epicureans, and Sceptics . . 3 

Zigzagging amorgst Dolomites 1G 



SPOTTXSWOODE AND CO., PRINTERS, STEW-STREET SQUARE, LONDON. 



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